


Sunrise in July

by ikeracity



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Erik Has Feelings, Glasses, M/M, Mutant Politics, Reconciliation, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-01 03:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15134534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikeracity/pseuds/ikeracity
Summary: Two years ago, Charles's relationship with Raven imploded in a huge, terrible fight that left them estranged. When Charles reaches out to her to reconcile, she invites him to come see her new show in California. Also invited is her best friend Erik. Together, Erik and Charles embark on a road trip from Manhattan to Los Angeles, four days that take them across the country--and bring them closer together than either of them ever expected.





	Sunrise in July

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JackyJango](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [七月日出 | Sunrise in July](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17241185) by [Amaranth42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaranth42/pseuds/Amaranth42)
  * Inspired by [Without Glasses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14704137) by [JackyJango](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/pseuds/JackyJango). 



> Thank you, JackyJango, for writing such a delightful little fic! I loved the idea of Charles being self-conscious about his glasses, and I took it and sort of ran away with it. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> ETA: All the limericks and riddles were taken from the NPR website!

 

Bright and early Sunday morning, Erik pulls up in front of the address Raven had texted him, stares up at it for a few moments in resigned silence, and then gets out to knock on the door. It’s nearly a minute before he feels any movement within, and by the time the door finally cracks open, he’s trying not to scowl impatiently. It’s Raven’s brother, he reminds himself. She told him to be nice.

“Oh, hello!” says the boy who opens the door. “You’re early!”

“It’s 7:02,” Erik replies, feeling out the hands on his watch. “I said 7:00.”

“So you did,” the boy—Charles—says affably. “I’m terribly sorry, I’m running a bit late. I’ve still got a bit to pack. You don’t mind waiting a few minutes, do you?”

Erik does, but he grits his teeth and shakes his head. “I’ll be in the car then.”

“Don’t be silly!” Charles exclaims, opening the door wider. “Come in, please!”

At Charles’s insistence, Erik steps into the hallway of the townhouse. It’s nice and cool inside, a contrast to the withering heat outdoors. Wiping a trickle of sweat from his eyebrow, he glances around. Shoes piled up against the wall, a coatrack sagging with winter coats and scarves, stacks of magazines leaning precariously on the narrow hallway table—it’s messy. Erik resists the urge to straighten up something, anything.

Instead, he walks over to peer at the framed pictures sitting on the hallway table beside the disorganized jumble of magazines. One photo shows a much younger Charles giving an even younger Raven a piggyback ride. Both of them are caught in action, laughing raucously. Another is of Raven’s high school graduation, Raven looking as if she can’t wait to rip off her too-big gown, Charles smiling broadly as he holds up Raven’s diploma for the camera.

The third frame contains just a picture of Raven, dressed all in white and standing at the edge of a stage. Erik recognizes it as the opening night for _Much Ado About Nothing_. He’d been there. Charles hadn’t. Raven must have sent Charles this photo later, or maybe Charles had gotten it from the online photo roll and printed it out.

“So sorry for keeping you waiting,” Charles says, reappearing with a suitcase and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Do you want something to drink before we go? Or eat?”

“Let’s just get on the road,” Erik mutters. “We’re already late.”

“Late?” Charles follows him out the door, pauses to lock it, and then hurries down the front porch stairs after Erik. “I didn’t realize we were on that tight of a schedule.”

“It’s a forty-two hour drive,” Erik replies briskly. He pops the trunk with a wave of his hand so Charles can put his bags in. “If we drive about ten hours a day, it’ll take us four days. No doubt we’ll hit some delays along the way though, so let’s say five days. I don’t really want to stay in the car for much longer than that, do you?”

“Well—I suppose not—”

“Then let’s get going. If we leave now, we might still beat traffic.”

In all honesty Erik wouldn’t mind driving for longer than five days. That’s part of why he’d been so looking forward to this trip—he’d relished the chance to be alone, to enjoy the power of his car roaring down highways, to have some peace and quiet. But then Raven had said that her brother wanted to come to California for the summer, too, and he’d always dreamed of going on a road trip, and one thing had led to another, and now here Erik is, stuck with a passenger on what was supposed to be a nice, relaxing, _solitary_ cross-country journey.

Raven owes him _big time_ for this. Especially since Charles already seems like the kind of person Erik finds unbearable: untidy, tardy, and annoyingly cheerful. Raven could’ve _warned_ him about this. 

Charles starts talking almost as soon as they pull off the curb. “We met once before, you know. I don’t know if you remember but Raven brought you to one of the Christmas parties up at the house four years ago, and she introduced us.”

 _The house_. Raven calls it that, too, even though the proper term is _castle_ or _palace_. Erik recalls the house and the party, but he doesn’t really recall Charles. Raven had introduced him to more than a dozen of her relatives that night, mostly so he’d know who she was talking about when she mocked them later in private.

“I don’t remember,” he says. “Sorry.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Charles says, waving a hand. “There were lots of people there. There always are. You and Raven snuck off somewhere in the first half hour of the party. Really unkind of you—I was stuck with Uncle Paul for _ages_ after you vanished. I could’ve used a rescue.”

Erik doesn’t know what to say to that. “Sorry?”

Charles shakes his head. “Honestly I can’t blame you. Mother’s parties are always horrible and boring. I would’ve snuck away, too, if I’d had the chance.” He taps his hand gently against his thigh. “So what are you up to these days? Last I heard, you’d just graduated from college.”

“Yeah, I’m in law school now.”

“Oh? Where at?”

“Columbia.”

“Oh!” Charles sits up straight. “I didn’t know that! That’s where I want to teach one day, you know.”

“I know. Raven told me.”

“Did she? Has she said a lot about me then?”

His tone is very casual, but Erik can just detect a hint of wistfulness in the question. How long has it been now since the two of them last talked? Not counting the emails they exchanged to arrange this trip, Erik’s pretty sure they haven’t spoken for two years at least. Charles must be starved for news about Raven. It’s almost enough for Erik to feel sorry for him.

“She’s said a lot of things over the years,” Erik replies. “Just little things mostly.”

“Like what?”

Erik shrugs. “She said you went to college when you were sixteen and you have a PhD and you’re getting another one. She said you just got back from Oxford for the summer.”

“Just last week. I’m still a bit jetlagged.”

“Really,” Erik says dryly. “You seem…peppy.”

Charles grins. “Just trying to make conversation. Or would you prefer to sit in silence for the next four days?”

Actually Erik would, but Raven had made him swear he wouldn’t be rude. So he just shrugs and says, “If you want to talk, I don’t care.”

Charles beams at him. “Excellent.”

He tilts his seat back a bit and slouches down, making himself nice and comfortable. So this is going to be a long conversation, Erik guesses. He tries not to despair.

“You know,” Charles says, “you’ve been my sister’s best friend for almost six years now and I know almost nothing about you really, besides the fact that you two went to school together. How did you meet?” 

Erik isn’t surprised by the question; he’d expected Charles to be curious about his relationship with Raven. “I was the TA for one of her classes, Intro to Mutant History.”

“Ah, right, I remember Raven mentioning that you were older.” Charles gives him a careful sideways glance. “She took that class her freshman year, I think—I remember her talking about it. And you were…?”

“A senior,” Erik says coolly. He changes lanes to get around an unbelievably slow Prius and then steels himself. “I can see you want to ask, so ask.”

Charles frowns. “The way she talked about you sometimes made me think that maybe you two were more than friends.” He pauses for a moment, like he’s hoping he won’t have to ask. When Erik stays silent though, Charles sighs. “Were you?”

“Is it any of your business?” Erik replies.

Charles is instantly flustered. His face reddening, he glances away. “No, I just—I was only wondering—”

“We were involved,” Erik says, “but never while I was her TA, and it only lasted a few weeks. We figured out pretty quickly that we were better as friends.”

“Oh.” Charles stares out the window, and for a moment, Erik thinks he’ll let it go. But then he mutters, “Still, she was only eighteen and you were probably twenty-two. That’s quite a difference in maturity.”  

Erik fights the urge to roll his eyes. “I can see why Raven calls you nosy and overbearing.”

The flush in Charles’s cheeks deepens. “I’m only concerned about her,” he says stiffly.

“She’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself, you know. And she doesn’t need you judging her for every decision she makes.”

“I don’t judge her! I just worry about her, that’s all.”

“So that’s why you called her stupid for wanting to be an actress and told her she’d never make it?”

“I—I didn’t—” Charles opens and closes his mouth soundlessly for a moment, his face bright red. “Not in those _words_ ,” he manages finally. “I just thought she shouldn’t drop out of college to go all the way out to California on a whim. I was trying to be the voice of reason.”

“It wasn’t a whim. She’d been thinking about it for months.”

“Yes, well, she didn’t tell me that!”

“Maybe because she knew how you’d react.”

That shuts Charles up for a minute. Erik can practically feel him stewing—there’s a thundercloud-like darkness hovering around him, crackling with tension. Erik’s been around Emma long enough to know when a telepath’s upset, and Charles feels fairly upset. Erik’s not sorry though. He remembers how broken up Raven had been after she and Charles had had their last huge fight. He’d never seen her cry before then, and he hasn’t seen her cry since. The memory doesn’t really make him feel too kindly towards Charles.

“Now I know why she likes you so much,” Charles says finally, his voice flat. “You two sound exactly alike.” Before Erik can reply, Charles turns to face him more fully, eyes narrowed. “You obviously don’t like me very much so why did you agree to drive with me across the country?”

“Because Raven asked me to,” Erik says. “And obviously she wants to reconcile with you for reasons I don’t understand.” He gives Charles a hard look. “I hope you’re not planning on lecturing her when we get there.”

“I…” Charles heaves a sigh and leans back, arms crossed. “I’m not. I’m not going all the way to California to pick a fight with her.” He chews his lip for a moment, then sighs again. “Believe it or not, I _am_ proud of her. And I’m happy for her.”

Well, he sounds sincere enough. Honestly, the only reason Erik had agreed to this whole ordeal is because Raven had really seemed like she wanted to make up with her brother, and because she said she thought things would really be different between them the next time they saw each other. Charles had been the one to reach out, but both of them had been glad to reestablish contact. So maybe Charles truly is on this trip to make amends. Erik doesn’t quite believe it, but for Raven’s sake, he hopes it’s true.

“Maybe lead with that when you see her,” Erik suggests.

Charles huffs. “Maybe you’re right.”

Thankfully, he lapses into a thoughtful silence after that, and Erik quickly turns on the radio to fill the quiet and keep him from restarting the conversation. He flicks through several channels before finally settling on NPR. That’s always his go-to when all the music on the other stations is shitty.

For an hour or so, they listen to the news, which is, for a wonder, not as horrible as usual. There are actually a few nice, feel-good stories that leave Erik feeling surprisingly optimistic about human nature and the world in general. Usually listening to the news these days leaves him white-knuckled with fury, so this is a pleasant change.

Charles doesn’t seem very interested in the news, but when the station transitions over into the word game hour, he perks up. “I love things like this.”

“Raven _did_ say you were a nerd,” Erik says. It was how she’d mentioned Charles to Erik for the first time: _so I have an older brother, he’s a total nerd—_

“You’re only resorting to name-calling because you know you can’t keep up,” Charles sniffs.

It takes Erik a moment to realize he’s being challenged. When he realizes it, he almost laughs. “You think I can’t _keep up?”_

“What, are you saying you can?” 

“I’m saying listen,” Erik retorts, cranking up the volume. “Whoever loses has to buy lunch and dinner today.”

“And winner is crowned Nerd King,” Charles adds.

Erik snorts. “Fine. Deal.”  

The next game is news-related limericks, with the players tasked with filling in the missing word. Erik normally hates poetry, but he’s listened to enough of this show to be able to pick up the rhythm of it. 

“ _We, kids, were just trying to help,_ ” reads the host. “ _We endorse sprinkle donuts and kelp. But our raving reviews simply failed to amuse. Now we kids can no longer use…_ ”

“Yelp,” Erik says instantly, at the exact same time Charles does. They exchange narrow-eyed looks, then turn to focus on the next riddle.

“ _I used to think snacks were a perk, but those calories do more than lurk. I’m fat from my uptake of sweet office cupcakes. I can’t resist free food at…”_

“Work!” Charles grins. “This is too easy.”

“ _The choice my kid openly mocks is woven right into my Crocs. My kid thinks it rankles. I’ve covered my ankles. My sandals come with built-in…”_

“Socks,” Erik says.

Charles makes a face. “No way. Built-in socks? That’s a terrible idea.”

“A terrible idea for a terrible shoe.”

That makes Charles laugh. “Hey, I kind of like Crocs. There’s something endearing about them.”

“That just means you have terrible taste.”

“I prefer to call it _unique_ taste. Besides—”

“Shh.” Erik turns up the volume again. “You’ll miss the next one.”

The next game is a series of fill-in-the-blank questions about current events, which Erik always aces because he skims the news all day long and never misses a headline. He’s not expecting Charles to know much—according to Raven, all Charles does is eat, sleep, and bury his head in textbooks—but surprisingly, Charles doesn’t fare too badly.

“ _With a vote of 52-29, Canada became the second country in the world to legalize_ …”

They both answer at the same time: “Marijuana.” 

“That’s a point for each of us,” Charles says.

“ _On Monday, the Supreme Court declined to rule on two key cases related to partisan_ …”

“Gerrymandering!”

“I said it first,” Erik says, which makes Charles sit up indignantly and argue, “No, I did, I said it before the question was even over,” and Erik says, “You can’t answer before the question’s over, that’s not how it works,” and they miss the next question entirely because Charles won’t shut up about it.

“Okay, no one gets a point,” Charles declares loudly. “Just to make it fair.”

“If we were playing fair, I would’ve won that one.”

“Hah! As if! I said it first and—”

Erik cranks up the volume to drown him out. For the next answer, they both have to shout to be heard over the radio, and it’s Erik who gets there first, hollering, “ _Barley!”_ Charles gets the next one—“ _Rolex!”—_ and for the next three minutes they’re so busy yelling words at each other that Erik doesn’t realize he’s missed their exit until Charles shouts suddenly, “I think you were supposed to turn off there!”

Erik looks to where he’s pointing and groans. “Fuck!” Turning the radio down with a flick of his power, he shoots Charles a glare. “This is your fault.”

“My fault!”

“You’re the one who made this a competition,” Erik grumbles.

Charles laughs. “You went along with it! And anyway, you lost, so you’re getting lunch.”

Erik snorts. “I didn’t lose. I got nine and you got eight—”

“No, _I_ got nine and _you_ got eight because I answered that one about horses first. But,” Charles smiles sweetly, “just because I’m nice, you just have to buy lunch. I’ll get dinner.”

“How generous of you,” Erik says dryly.

“You’re quite welcome,” Charles replies, sounding so very arrogant and posh that Erik rolls his eyes heavenward.

They continue for four more hours before pulling into a drive-thru to get lunch. Erik orders a burger and fries and then turns to Charles. “What do you want?”

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Charles leans over Erik and rattles off a horrifically long list of items to the poor employee on the other side of the intercom. Erik’s too startled to push him away, so he just sits there stiffly, trying not to notice the way Charles is leaned up against his chest, or how warm Charles’s hand is on his thigh. He’s way too close for comfort. Erik hadn’t even allowed Raven to touch him casually until they’d been friends for nearly three months.

Charles abruptly pulls back and sits up straight. “Sorry,” he says, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“What?”

“I could feel how much you wanted to push me away,” Charles says, cheeks pinking. “Up here, I mean.” He taps his temple.

Right. Telepathy.

The intercom crackles. “Will that be all?” 

Erik glances at Charles, who nods. When Erik confirms the order and sees the total, he scowls. “You only ordered this much because you knew I was paying, didn’t you?”

“I always eat this much,” Charles replies. He still seems faintly embarrassed about bothering Erik, but he smiles. “Raven didn’t tell you? My telepathy burns up a lot of energy.”

“I feel like I’ve been tricked,” Erik mutters, but a deal is a deal. He pulls up to the next window and hands over his credit card.

Fifteen minutes later, they’re back on the road. Erik finished off his burger in ten minutes, but Charles is still digging into his food. He’s demolished a chicken sandwich and a carton of fries already, and now he’s opening up his box of steak fingers.

“That’s just excessive,” Erik says.

“I’m hungry.” Charles licks his fingers happily. “Less hungry now. Once I finish this, I can drive if you’d like.”

Erik’s not a big fan of other people handling his car, but at the same time, it’s only fair that they drive in shifts. Charles had better contribute something; Erik’s not his damn chauffeur.

“You can drive until dinner,” Erik says. 

“Alright.” Charles licks his fingers again. It’s an oddly distracting gesture. “After I finish eating this. Are you sure you don’t want one?”

“I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself.”

At the next rest stop about thirty miles down the road, they switch off. Charles pulls up the seat, adjusts the mirrors, and pulls out of the parking lot and back onto the service road. And then immediately, Erik’s holding on for dear life.  

“Car,” he warns as they speed up onto the highway. “There’s a car— _car!”_

“I know, I see it,” Charles says tranquilly. He just barely manages to avoid hitting the bumper of the car in front of them as he merges onto the highway.

“There’s a truck—”

“Yes, yes.” Charles changes lanes with a jerk that makes Erik grit his teeth.  

“Do you also see the motorcycle behind you? Because—”

“I see it,” Charles says, heaving an exasperated sigh. “Are you going to backseat drive the whole time?”

Erik crosses his arms. “Are you going to drive like a maniac the whole time?”

“Oh please. You’re just as dramatic as Raven is. There’s nothing wrong with my driving.”

“If you get us to dinner in one piece, I’ll be absolutely amazed.”

“If I get us to dinner in one piece, you should pay for that, too.”

“Not if you eat like you did at lunch. I’ll be flat broke by the time we get to California.”

“Oh, I’m sure Raven will reimburse you,” Charles says cheerfully. He swerves into the outermost lane so suddenly Erik’s stomach lurches.

By the time they finally stop for dinner, Erik’s queasy and sore from sitting so tensely, and he has a headache from keeping a tight grip on the car with his powers, just in case. He climbs stiffly out of the car and walks around their parking spot a couple of times to get his muscles to loosen up.

“See?” Charles says, rattling the keys. “Everyone’s in one piece.”

“Miraculously,” Erik mutters.

The diner they’ve stopped at is old-fashioned, complete with the jukebox in the corner and checkered décor. Even though it’s six p.m., the place is nearly empty. The servers are all leaning around the front counter, looking bored to pieces. One of them detaches from the rest and comes over. “Table for two?”

“Please,” Charles says.

She leads them to a booth and takes their drink orders. As she goes off to fetch Charles a tea and Erik coffee, Erik opens the menu and glances over it. It’s all typical diner food, not his favorite, but at least it’ll give him energy to drive the next leg.

“Have you ever been on a road trip before?” Charles asks.

Of course Charles wants to make conversation. Erik sighs. “A couple of times.”

“Where to?”

“My mom and I drove to Florida once, and another time we went to Seattle.”

“So you’re an old pro at long-distance driving.” Charles smiles. “I have to admit, I’m not used to being in a car for a whole day. Or for driving more than a couple of hours at a time, for that matter.” He rubs his eyes. “It’s more of a strain on the eyes than I’d imagined.”

“I’ll drive after dinner,” Erik says firmly.

Charles sees the look on his face and starts to laugh. “Come on, it wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“It was bad. It was so bad it gave me a headache, and if I have to endure your driving after dinner, I guarantee you I’m going to throw up.”

“That’s insulting.”

Erik’s never seen a fully grown adult pout before, but Charles really honestly _pouts,_ and somehow, it’s not ridiculous or annoying. It’s actually kind of attractive on him, which is _not_ a thought Erik cares to consider further.

Their server returns to deliver their drinks, tea and coffee and water for both of them. “And anyway,” Charles adds as he stirs some sugar into his tea, “you should’ve said something about your headache earlier. I could’ve helped.” He touches his forefinger to his temple. “May I?”

“May you what?” Erik asks warily.

“I won’t go snooping around,” Charles promises. “I’ll just dim that headache a little if I can. Unless you’re enjoying it?”

Erik’s really not, and he can tell it’s only going to get worse before it gets any better. So he nods slowly.

Charles closes his eyes. Erik expects a cold, shivering touch, as unpleasant as icy fingers trailing down his nape. But Charles’s touch is unexpectedly warm and subtle, so light that Erik can hardly even tell he’s there. After only a few seconds, the pressure in Erik’s head eases, and he exhales in relief.

“Better?” Charles asks, opening his eyes again.

“Yeah, much. Thanks.” Erik regards him curiously. “I didn’t know telepaths could do that.” Emma’s been holding out on him all this time. Asshole. 

But Charles says, “Not all of them. It just happens to be one of my many talents.” He grins. “Pretty handy, yeah? It’s how I get people to keep me around.”

“What, people don’t enjoy your charming personality?” Erik asks dryly.

Charles’s smile falters for a split second. If Erik hadn’t been looking at him, he wouldn’t have noticed the hesitation. But he is looking and he does notice, and Charles must realize he notices because he looks away, his cheeks reddening slightly.

After a moment, he says cheerily, “Quite a few people would unironically call me charming, I’ll have you know. So you’re among the minority, I’m afraid.”

 _I didn’t mean it as a jab,_ Erik wants to say. _I was just joking._

He doesn’t want to make things awkward though so he just says, “The minority?”

“People who are immune to my charms,” Charles explains with a laugh. “Raven would say that makes you smart.”

Erik blinks. “Have you been trying to charm me?”

“Yes?” Charles cocks his head. “I want you to like me. You’re Raven’s best friend. You’re obviously important to her. And we’re going to be spending the summer together, so it’d probably be nice if we got along. You _are_ staying all summer, aren’t you?”

“Most of it, yeah.” He has to get back to New York in time for the fall semester, but other than that, he doesn’t have any other plans. He’d thought about doing a summer internship, but the timing hadn’t worked out, what with the opening night of Raven’s play coming up at the end of July.  

“Me too,” Charles says. “I fly back to England in September, so I’m here for a while.”

“You’re planning on staying in California for the whole break?”

“If everything works out.”

Erik has to wonder how much Charles and Raven have actually talked about what went down between them. Apparently they’ve made up enough to agree to this trip, but beyond that, Erik doesn’t think they’ve had a real discussion about everything that’s been stewing between them over the last few years. Raven doesn’t like talking about it too much, so for all Erik knows, they’re going to arrive in Los Angeles and he’s going to be trapped in the middle of a massive screaming sibling fight.

“Oh Lord, I hope not.” Charles winces. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear that.”

Erik shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Surprise crosses Charles’s face. “Fine? Normally people are more bothered than that. Even Raven used to hate it when I accidentally listened in.”

“I have a psionic friend in law school,” Erik explains. “Sometimes she slips up, too, so I’ve gotten used to it. She says for more powerful telepaths, your natural state is receptive so it can feel unnatural to shut yourself off.”

“I…didn’t expect you to know that,” Charles says slowly. He sounds almost…relieved?

Erik shrugs. “It should be common knowledge, but anti-psionic bias is still deeply ingrained in society. But I don’t have to tell you that; you probably know better than I do.”

Charles smiles. It’s not the bright, wide smile he’s been sporting all day long. It’s something gentler and, Erik thinks, more honest. “I do, but it’s always nice to hear someone else acknowledge it, too. And anyway, a lot of people _do_ know that it can be hard for telepaths to close their minds off, but they don’t care. So…thank you for caring.”

Erik glances down, feeling slightly abashed by Charles’s warm gaze. “It’s only fair,” he mutters. “I don’t shut myself off from the world to make other people comfortable, and you shouldn’t have to either.”

“Why, I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Charles teases, but there’s something in his voice that suggests he’s genuinely touched. Picking up his menu, he adds, “Just for that, I’ll pick up the tab for dinner.” 

“Thank god,” Erik says, which makes Charles laugh.

Their server drops by again to take their orders, and again Erik listens as Charles picks three entrees off the menu, plus two appetizers. When their server stares skeptically at him, Charles just smiles and says, “And I’ll have the cheesecake for dessert please.”

“And you, sir?” she asks, turning to Erik with a look of mild trepidation.

“Just a grilled cheese sandwich with chips,” he says, handing her his menu.

The diner’s empty enough that it takes almost no time at all for their food to come out. Erik eats slowly, knowing it’ll take Charles time to plow through all his plates. It’s actually kind of fascinating, watching him eat. Sort of like watching a lion feeding in some Discovery channel documentary.

“I heard that,” Charles says, swallowing his mouthful of fries.

“Where do you even put it all?” Erik wonders. Charles is so lean he’s practically skinny. Watching him pack away a burger, a waffle, a plate of fries, and a basket of chicken fingers in about twenty minutes is as impressive as it is baffling.

Charles shrugs. “I’ve just always had a big appetite ever since my telepathy manifested. It isn’t very uncommon for psionics, you know. Doesn’t your friend eat a lot?”

Now that Charles mentions it, Erik realizes he always sees Emma snacking throughout the day, no matter what time it is. He hadn’t noticed before.

“The good thing is,” Charles continues, “a meal like this will sustain me for half a day or so at least. I probably won’t be hungry again until lunch tomorrow.”

“I don’t know how else you’d be able to afford to live,” Erik mutters.

Charles grins and takes a sip of his tea. “Feel free to try any of my food, by the way. The bacon and sausage biscuits are especially good.” 

“I don’t eat bacon.”

Charles’s eyes widen in realization. “You’re Jewish! I forgot.”

“Raven mentioned it?”

“Yes, I remember her saying something about it at the Christmas party. They had bacon-wrapped shrimp for appetizers, and I told her she should bring you one since it was so good, but she said you were Jewish so you wouldn’t have any.” Charles glances at Erik’s plate. “Do you keep kosher then? Is that alright for me to ask?” 

“I’m not strict about it, but I try to.” Erik grimaces. “I haven’t been that great about it lately, but I do make an effort.”

Charles nods. “Well feel free to sample anything on my plate that’s not bacon, if you’d like.”

Erik takes a couple of his fries as Charles methodically works his way through the rest of his dinner. When their server brings his slice of cheesecake out, Charles insists that Erik have some, too.

“I can’t finish it all by myself,” he says, pushing the plate at Erik. “Go on, have a bite, it’s delicious.”

Erik doesn’t particularly care for anything too sweet, but he can tell Charles won’t relent until he gives in so he takes the fork Charles offers him and spears off a piece. It’s surprisingly good, thick and creamy with just the right amount of graham cracker crust.

Charles watches his expression closely and breaks into a smile when Erik’s swallowed. “You like it!”

He looks so pleased that Erik takes another bite. They trade the fork back and forth until the cheesecake is gone, and then, finally, Charles leans back in his seat, wearing a look of deep satisfaction. “I’m absolutely stuffed.”

“I’d be shocked if you weren’t,” Erik replies, eyeing all the plates on their table. “Come on, I’ll drive.”

They settle the tab at the front counter and then head back out to the car. Erik tugs the keys out of Charles’s pocket with a wiggle of his fingers, much to Charles’s amazement and delight, and slides into the driver’s seat. As they pull out onto the frontage road, Charles chatters on about how good the food was and how they’ll have to make a note of it just in case they ever come back out this way, but by the time they’ve climbed back onto I-80, he trails off and goes silent. Erik glances over and finds him slumped down in his seat, fast asleep. The sun’s coming straight through the windshield at Charles, painting his face bright and golden, and for the first time, Erik notices his freckles, _really_ notices them. There’s two on his nose, others scattered across his cheeks. They lend his face a bit of endearing boyishness, and Erik has to admit, he can see why people might find him charming.

Driving in silence is a welcome change from the day full of conversation, but Erik’s a little surprised to realize that having Charles with him today hadn’t made the trip as miserable as he’d expected. In fact, a lot of it had been unexpectedly enjoyable. Yes, Charles might be annoyingly cheerful, and he might be domineering and judgmental when it comes to Raven, but he’s not a bad companion, all in all. He’s made the shortlist of people Erik wouldn’t have to be forced at gunpoint to spend time with.

He turns on the radio, volume on low, and finds a station with some decent classic rock. Outside, Indiana flashes past.

 

*

 

Charles rouses when someone shakes his shoulder. When he lifts his head, pain shoots through his neck. Groaning, he rubs at the crick and opens his eyes muzzily.

Erik lets go of his shoulder when he sees that Charles is awake. “We’re stopping for the night.”

It’s dark outside, Charles realizes. The only light he can see comes from the building in front of them, a squat, wide motel with faded blue walls and a VACANCY sign flickering in the office window.

“Where are we?”

“Illinois.”

“And we’re stopping here because…?”

Erik gives him a look that says he’s doubting Charles’s intelligence. “Because it’s late and we need sleep before we keep going.”

They climb out of the car. Charles stares up at the motel’s gloomy façade. By day, it might look relatively non-threatening, but by night, it brings goosebumps to his arms. There’s not much around them, just a dimly lit gas station down the street and the highway behind them, filled with the sounds of rushing cars.

“Yes, but why are we _here?_ Surely we could’ve found someplace more…”

Erik’s pulling their bags out of the trunk, but he pauses to shoot Charles a sardonic look. “I’m sorry, would you prefer a Four Seasons?”

Charles flushes. “I just mean that this place looks like somewhere you’d go to get murdered and dismembered. Or perhaps dismembered and _then_ murdered.”

Erik snorts. “All motels look like this. Haven’t you ever been to one before?” He pauses. “No, of course you haven’t. Come on.” He hoists his bag up onto his shoulder. Charles can’t help but admire the way his forearm muscles flex as he does. “I won’t let anyone murder and dismember you, I promise.”

“Well as long as you _promise_ ,” Charles mutters. He grabs his own bag and follows.  

There’s no guests in the lobby as they enter, only a sleepy older man behind the counter shuffling a deck of cards. He runs a careful eye over them both as they walk in and, apparently deciding they’re not objectionable, waves them forward. “Hey. What can I do for you?”

“We’ll take a room for the night,” Erik replies. “Two beds.”

As he pulls out his wallet, Charles says quickly, “I can pay. You did most of the driving today, after all.”

Erik deliberates for a moment, then says, “We’ll split it.”

Charles resists the urge to tell Erik that they don’t have to, a few hundred dollars is nothing to him and he’d be happy to pay. He’s pretty sure Erik wouldn’t take that well; Raven’s mentioned before how proud Erik is, and Charles can guess how Erik might feel about Charles covering most of their expenses. So he lets Erik pass both of their credit cards over to the man behind the desk without further comment.

He’s unable to hide his surprise though when he sees the charge. “Forty-nine dollars? Only?”

The man raises a bushy gray eyebrow. “Yeah? Why, you wanna pay more?”

“Sorry,” Erik says, collecting their cards and the key, “he doesn’t get out much.” Grabbing Charles’s arm, he hustles him off to the elevator down the hall. “You really don’t get out much, do you?” he mutters as he presses the button. His mind adds, _Is he really this out of touch?_

Charles pulls his arm from Erik’s grip, dimming their brief mental contact. “Sorry,” he says a bit stiffly. “This is just new to me, that’s all.”

Erik scrutinizes him for a long moment. Then the elevator doors ding open, and he leads the way in.

The elevator is small and dingy and shudders terrifyingly as they make their ascent, but they arrive on the third floor in one piece and Charles gladly stumbles out. Their room is at the end of the hall, and Erik unlocks it with a flick of his hand, not bothering with the key. Despite his weariness from the day and his lingering embarrassment about Erik’s disdain for his obvious wealth and privilege, Charles can’t help but appreciate the subtle display of power.

The lights blink on at a twitch of Erik’s fingers, illuminating a cramped room with two beds, a desk and chair, another door leading to the bathroom, and not much else. Erik drops his bag by the bed closer to the door and says, “You can take a shower first if you want.”

Charles yawns. He’s almost too tired to bother, but a shower _does_ sound good. It’s been a long day. “Alright.”

After a quick shower, he pulls on pajamas, brushes his teeth, takes out his contacts, and collapses into bed. He intends to stay awake until Erik’s done with his shower, but almost as soon as he hears the water start to run, his eyes flutter closed and he drifts off.

 

*

 

In the morning, they toss their bags back into the car and grab a quick breakfast from the gas station down the street before hitting the road again. Erik takes the first leg so Charles slouches in the passenger seat and watches the landscape blur past. After Erik turns on the morning news on NPR, it’s not long before they’re arguing.

“Of course I think the Registration Act is an absurd violation of civil rights,” Charles says, “but a lot of people in this country agree with what Senator Kelly has to say. I think it’s worth trying to figure out what exactly he’s saying that resonates with them so much.”

Erik snorts. “It’s not a mystery. He’s saying he hates mutants, and all the mutantphobes fucking love him for it.”

“I think it’s more complicated than that.”

“It really isn’t. He wants to have all mutants registered in a government database and monitored for life. _For life!_ That’s fucking terrifying.”

“I never said it wasn’t, but if we could understand why so many people support such a measure—”

“Because they hate us.”

“Because they’re _afraid_ of us.”

“They hate us because they’re afraid of us,” Erik growls, “but at the end of the day, it’s the same thing. They still _want_ the same thing: to oppress us, strip away our rights, tame us to make themselves feel better.”

“But we can work with that,” Charles argues. “We can show them their fear is irrational.”

“By rolling over and letting them walk all over us, you mean.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Raven told me you were an integrationist.” Erik’s lip curls slightly. “A pacifist.”

“There’s nothing wrong with advocating for non-violence.”

“It’s unfair to ask us to be non-violent while our lives are being threatened.”

“But any violence on our part plays into their hands. It gives people like Kelly something to point to as evidence that we’re dangerous.”

“We _are_ dangerous,” Erik says fiercely, “and we shouldn’t let them forget it. They should know that if they push us, if they try to hurt us, we’re more than capable of hurting them back.”

“I don’t think using our powers as a deterrent is the most effective way of convincing society to accept us. If anything, it’ll only stoke the tensions between us and baselines.”

Erik scowls. “The more important fight is against the government, and they don’t respond to anything but power. Just look at history—they’ll kill and lie and cheat to get whatever they want, and the weaker you are, the more vulnerable you are to being exploited and trampled.”

He sounds just like Raven. Charles has to wonder who influenced whom. “The government isn’t a monolith. It’s full of good people and bad people, just like anything else. We have enemies there and we have allies. We can work with them to help protect mutant rights.”

Erik’s fairly radiating contempt. “You’re naïve.”

“And you’re cynical,” Charles shoots back. “Do you really think we shouldn’t try to coexist with baselines? They outnumber us twenty to one.”

“But together we could easily overpower them. They couldn’t stand against all of us. They couldn’t even stand against you alone.” Erik glances at him. “Raven said they couldn’t even measure your powers when you were a kid, you were too strong.”

“What are you suggesting? That I just mind control everyone in Congress to do what I want?”

“You could, couldn’t you?”

Charles is appalled by the suggestion. “I’m not even going to answer that. And I wouldn’t do it even if I could. To take away people’s free will like that—”

“Not even to protect your own kind?”

“It’s not us versus them,” Charles says firmly. “There are better ways of achieving peace and justice than subjugating the other side.”

“You’d rather we bow and scrape and beg for our rights.”

“I’d rather we have conversations and find ways to compromise. Is that really so abhorrent to you?”

“No, it’s not abhorrent. It’s unrealistic, that’s what it is.”

“Well,” Charles sniffs, crossing his arms, “I happen to believe otherwise. I’ll continue to call my senators and write letters to my representatives, and you can keep trying to burn down the government.”

Erik rolls his eyes. “I’m not trying to do that. I can’t deny that sometimes I’d like to fly to D.C. and throw the Washington Monument through the White House though.”

The mental image is so absurd that Charles snorts a laugh. “You couldn’t do that.”

“I could. I’ve visited it before. There’s enough iron and steel in it that I could lift it up.”

Charles’s frustration with their argument fades into curiosity. “Could you really? It’s got to weigh tons though. What’s the heaviest thing you’ve ever managed?”

“When I was younger, I used to sneak over to a junkyard near my mom’s house to practice with my powers. I started with little car parts and eventually worked my way up to lifting entire cars. By the time I left for college, I could pick up all the cars in the entire junkyard if I concentrated hard enough.”

“All of them!” Charles can hardly wrap his mind around how much concentration and raw power that would take. Even most skilled telekinetics can’t manipulate more than a few large objects at once. “That’s impressive.”

“Yes.” Erik’s scowl eases and transforms into a faint smug grin. “So yeah, I think I could pick up the Washington Monument. It might take some more practice, but I could manage it.”

“And then you’d throw it through the White House.”

“Like a spear. I’m sure you’d disapprove.”

“Considering who lives there currently, I might even applaud you,” Charles admits.

Erik’s grin widens. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

The tension that had been rapidly building over the last several minutes seeps away, like air released from a tire. Charles uncrosses his arms, sighs, and then gives Erik a rueful smile. “I guess I have you to thank for radicalizing my sister.”

“Teaching her to think for herself is radicalizing her?”

“You introduced her to Hellfire, didn’t you?”

“I showed her a few of their newsletters. So what?”

“ _So what?_ They’re pure separatist propaganda, that’s what.”

“They have some good ideas that shouldn’t be dismissed.”

“And they have other ideas that shouldn’t even see the light of day! Like their proposal to kidnap politicians’ families and hold them hostage to force Congress to surrender to their demands. Those are the tactics of terrorists!”

“I didn’t say _all_ their ideas were good, only some of them. And besides, they’re still worth reading, even if they’re too radical for your comfort. Or do you only listen to viewpoints that agree with your own?”

“I try to only listen to credible sources,” Charles replies. “And I assume that means you listen to more moderate viewpoints yourself?”

Erik gives him a pointed look. “I’m listening to you now, aren’t I?”

“How tolerant of you,” Charles says dryly. He sighs and rubs at his temples. At least Erik _is_ listening, he supposes. Raven would’ve stormed off by now.

“You’re right,” Erik says after a long minute. When Charles blinks at him, he continues, “You keep trying to work with the system and I’ll keep fighting it, and we’ll see who does more good.”

“I suppose that’s all we can do,” Charles agrees.

They lapse into silence. By now the news has transitioned into a more benign interview with a famous composer, and Charles’s gaze wanders out to the road, to the other cars sliding from lane to lane, to the dark storm clouds gathering on the horizon in the distance. He wonders how Raven will react when they get to Los Angeles and see each other in person for the first time in two years. He wonders if this whole trip will even be worth it.

Lunch is a quick affair. They stop in a small town and buy sandwiches at a tiny Subway. Charles scarfs down most of his lunch in one go and saves his last six-inch sandwich for later. Then he gets into the driver’s seat and ignores the apprehensive look Erik gives him as he pulls out of the parking lot and navigates them back onto the highway.

The storm clouds grow thicker and darker as the day wears on, and by mid-afternoon, they’re hovering just overhead. When the clouds finally break, it’s an absolute deluge. Even with the windshield wipers working at full blast, Charles can hardly see five feet in front of them. He creeps along by following the glowing red taillights of the car ahead of them, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“There’s a town coming up,” Erik says, teeth gritted. If anything, he’s even tenser than Charles is. “We should stop there until this passes.”

Charles nods. “It’s almost dinnertime anyway.” And he doesn’t like driving with such low visibility; it makes him nervous. Even if Erik _could_ lift the whole car out of danger if necessary, there’s no sense in tempting fate.

He turns off on the next exit and slowly makes his way into town. Through the blowing rain, he spots a sign for a motel and steers toward it. They make it into the parking lot without incident, and Charles exhales loudly in relief.

“You can drive next,” he says, handing the keys over.

“Happy to,” Erik mutters. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he twists around and digs in the backseat for a moment before coming up with a raincoat. “Here.”

Charles starts to slide it on, then realizes Erik’s about to get out of the car without coat or umbrella. “Wait, you’ll get soaked! You take it.”

“It’s only a few feet from here to the door.” He gives Charles a once-over. “Between the two of us, I think you’re probably more likely to catch a cold. Come on.”

He bolts out of the car before Charles can stop him. Feeling oddly touched, Charles finishes zipping up the coat, pulls up the hood, and dives out into the rain.

They grab their bags and hurry inside, splashing through ankle-deep puddles as they rush for the doors. Once inside, they have to wait in line for a room; evidently several other people had the same idea to stop for the night to wait out the storm. Charles searches up weather information on his phone and shows Erik the radar map. “Looks like the storm will be here until around five a.m.”

Erik nods and runs his hands through his wet hair to pull it back from his face. “Good thing we’re stopping then.”

Water trickles down his eyebrows, down the side of his face. The wetness makes his eyelashes darker and more striking, and Charles is startled, suddenly, by how lovely Erik’s eyes are. They’re bright blue and gray and clear, and they send a shiver through him when they focus on him.

“What?” Erik asks.

Charles looks quickly away, hoping Erik doesn’t see him flush. “Nothing.”

The receptionist waves them forward before Erik can press. Within ten minutes, they have a key and a room number, and they climb the stairs to the second floor rather than waiting for the elevator. Erik’s sopping wet, dripping puddles wherever he steps. Both of their shoes squelch unpleasantly as they make their way to their room.

“You get first shower,” Charles says.

Erik nods. “I’ll be quick.”

Once he disappears into the bathroom, Charles checks the weather map again, mentally calculates how much time they’ll lose today, and sends a text to Raven with an update on their location. Then he decides to go downstairs to look for something to eat.

He returns just as Erik’s coming out of the bathroom. He’s carrying his wet clothes and wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. _A towel_. Charles tries not to yelp in surprise.

“I forgot my clothes in my bag,” Erik says by way of explanation, with no hint of self-consciousness whatsoever. He pulls an empty plastic bag from his pack, slips his dirty clothes in, and starts to dig for a shirt and pants. “Where’d you go? I felt the door open.”

Charles swallows hard, his throat suddenly very dry. “I went to get food,” he says, amazed when his voice comes out steady and normal. Erik’s standing there half-naked, rummaging through his bag casually. Erik has the body of a _god_.

“Anything good?” Erik asks, eyes flicking over to the bags in Charles’s hands. Shirt in hand, he straightens, giving Charles a full view of his beautiful torso. Broad shoulders, impossibly narrow waist, lean belly, finely muscled arms—good god, he’s _unfairly_ gorgeous. Charles very nearly whimpers.

“Charles?”

“Ramen,” Charles stammers. “And some other—other snacks. There’s a convenience store down the street and I just—I picked some things up.” _Look away, you idiot, stop fucking ogling him!_ “I got you coffee.”

He thrusts out the cup mechanically. Erik gives him a bemused look. “Thanks.”

“I should—shower.” Charles hurriedly sets his bags down on the desk and puts Erik’s coffee down where he can see it. “I’ll just—”

He grabs his clothes and flees into the bathroom, just barely managing not to slam the door shut behind him.

What the hell was _that?_ He’d known Erik was handsome—he has _eyes_ —but to be confronted with the evidence of Erik’s attractiveness so plainly, so unexpectedly…

He never thought he’d see Erik shirtless, but now he’s pretty sure the image is burned permanently into his mind. It’s not like he hadn’t seen how gorgeous Erik was since the beginning, but he hadn’t really thought about it until now. Raven’s best friend is off limits. _Should_ be off limits. He’s pretty sure Raven would murder him if anything ever happened.

 _Also he slept with your sister,_ Charles tells himself. _He slept with your sister!_

That thought clears his mind enough for him to strip out of his clothes and climb into the shower. By the time he’s washed his hair and scrubbed his body, more rational thoughts begin to win over. There’s nothing wrong with being attracted to Erik—he’s objectively handsome and he’s intelligent (if mildly infuriating) and he’s admittedly Charles’s type. Nothing’s going to happen though because Erik’s probably not attracted to _him_. He doesn’t even know if Erik likes men, and even if he did, he obviously doesn’t think very much of Charles, who’s probably too rich and messy and disagreeable for his tastes.

That’s fine. Charles isn’t on this trip to get laid anyway, and sleeping with Erik…well, that would just complicate things. He doesn’t want to complicate things, not when he’s so close to reconciling with Raven.

Feeling a bit silly for going completely slack-jawed earlier, he turns off the water, dries himself off, and pulls on his pajamas. After toweling his hair mostly dry, he gathers up his dirty clothes and returns to the bedroom.

Erik’s spread out the food on the desk. It’s an odd assortment: five cups of ramen, three bags of chips, a big pack of gummy worms, a packet of Oreos, a couple of hot dogs from the convenience store grill. Two of the ramen cups are open and steaming. Erik pushes one toward Charles.

“Thanks,” Charles says. “Sorry it’s not much. We can go back over to the store later if you’re still hungry.”

“ _You’ll_ probably still be hungry, not me.” Erik stirs his ramen with a plastic fork. “Thanks again for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome. I thought you’d want something to warm you up.”

Erik lifts the cup. “It’s terrible, by the way. How much milk did you put in here anyway?”

Charles laughs. “I never make coffee, sorry. I just added as much milk as I’d add to my tea. Besides,” he glances at the cup in Erik’s hand, “you’re still drinking it, aren’t you?”

“I never let coffee go to waste,” Erik says. “Even if it’s terrible.”

“Noted.”

The desk is pushed against the wall and there’s not much room on either side of it, so they have to sit side-by-side, close enough that their knees brush every time Charles turns his chair to reach for more food. He could move to the armchair in the corner, he supposes, or to one of the beds, but he doesn’t. Erik doesn’t either, and Charles isn’t sure what that means, or if it even means anything.

_So you saw him shirtless. Who cares? Don’t go overthinking things._

Charles _is_ still hungry after they finish dinner, but he’s reluctant to venture back out into the rain. He figures he can last until morning though, so when Erik asks if they need to run down and get more food, he shakes his head.

It’s still relatively early but there’s not much to do, especially with the storm still thundering outside, so they climb into their respective beds, and Charles switches on the TV. For a couple of hours, they watch Law & Order and Erik complains about how inaccurate everything is and mercilessly points out all the plot holes. Charles usually enjoys Law & Order, but he has to admit, it’s even more entertaining listening to Erik tear it apart detail by detail.

Then, just as the next episode is starting, there’s a flash of lightning so bright it’s visible through the curtains, a huge crash of thunder rattles the room, and the TV and lights cut out at once.

Charles sits up, a little shaken by how deafening the thunder had been. They wait a minute, then another, and then Erik says, “I think that knocked the power out for good.”

Charles sighs and slides off the bed. “Great. I’m going to brush my teeth.”

Erik’s bed is closer to the bathroom so Charles puts a hand on the edge of it and skirts around it. It takes an effort to find his toothpaste in the dark, but he eventually digs the tube out of his bag and brushes his teeth thoroughly, trying not to think about breakfast already. He’s craving eggs and pancakes and biscuits; just the thought of them makes his stomach grumble. There has to be a diner in this town somewhere. Hopefully Erik will be okay with sitting down for breakfast rather than just grabbing something from the convenience store again.

Spitting toothpaste out into the sink, he rinses his mouth, takes out his contacts, and makes his way back into the bedroom. He’s just taken a couple of steps through the doorway when his toe catches on something on the floor, and he’s pitched forward. Flailing, he braces himself to hit the ground, but he must be closer to the bed than he’d thought because he staggers half onto Erik’s bed. Onto Erik.

Erik’s lying on top of the covers so there isn’t even a layer between them. Charles can feel Erik’s firm stomach under one hand, and under the other—

He snatches his hand away from Erik’s thigh instantly. “Oh god, I’m so sorry about that.”

Erik’s hand finds his upper arm, steadies him. “Are you okay?”

Charles is suddenly glad it’s almost pitch black in here because his cheeks are on fire. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tripped.”

Pushing himself off Erik’s chest, he slides off the bed. Erik’s hand slips away from his arm, and Charles tries not to think about touching him again, or about Erik touching him back. Those are tempting thoughts, too tempting for comfort.

He fumbles his way back to his own bed and climbs in. Rain beats against the window, and thunder rolls overhead, low and ponderous. Charles flexes his hand, remembering how muscular Erik’s thigh had felt beneath his fingers, their skin separated only by Erik’s sweatpants. Had Erik felt anything, having Charles so close? Is his heart beating as quickly as Charles’s is now?

He really should’ve gotten laid before he’d left on this trip. He’s sexually frustrated, that’s what this is.

Feeling foolish, he buries his face in his pillow.

“So,” Erik says after a few minutes, “I’ll set my alarm for six-thirty tomorrow. We should get an early start to make up for the time we lost today.”

Charles turns over onto his back and glances at Erik. His face is illuminated dimly by the light from his phone screen. It’s enough for Charles to see the straight, strong line of Erik’s nose, and the lightness of his eyes. “That sounds good.”

“If we drive about twelve hours tomorrow, we should make it through most of Colorado. If we’re lucky with traffic, we might even make it to Utah.”

“Even with the delay, we’ll make it in time though?”

“We should. We’ll make it there on Thursday night, and opening night’s not until Friday. We have a lot of cushion.”

“Good.” Charles isn’t exactly sure how he’s going to make things up to Raven, but missing the opening night of the biggest show of her career thus far would probably not be the best way to go about it. He folds his hands over his stomach and studies the shadows on the ceiling for a long minute, listening to the spatter of rain against the window. Listening to Erik’s soft breathing in the other bed.

“How is she doing?” Charles asks. “I mean, is she happy?”

It’s a few seconds before Erik replies. He’s set his phone aside so his face is once more hidden in darkness. “She is. She’s happier than she ever was in college.”

Not surprising, Charles supposes. Raven had never really felt like she fit in in college, though Charles had tried his hardest to convince her to give it more of a try, to stay another year, to just stick it out and get her degree. He’s still not pleased she dropped out, but at least she’s happy.

“I’ve been trying to follow her online,” Charles offers after a moment. “I googled her name and looked up the shows she was in. She’s changed her name?”

“It’s her stage name. Mystique.”

“Ah. It’s…I like it.”

Erik snorts. “You’re going to have to sound more convincing than that when you see her.”

Charles turns onto his side and curls up, staring over at the shadow of Erik’s form in the other bed. It occurs to him that Erik probably knows more about Raven now than Charles ever did. She’s been inscrutable to him ever since she turned fifteen and decided she didn’t like having him in her head anymore. He never really learned to read her without his telepathy, and by the time he realized he should’ve been trying harder, it was too late.

But Erik’s never had to rely on telepathy to befriend Raven. He probably understands her the way Charles never has.

“I guess I’m just not sure why she felt the need to change everything about herself,” Charles says softly. “Or why she felt the need to move all the way to California. She could have pursued acting in New York. There’s Broadway. There’s plenty of theaters. She could’ve joined one of those.”

“Hollywood’s in California.” Erik pauses. “You weren’t in California.” But he doesn’t say it unkindly.

Still, Charles feels the sting of his words. “Was I really so bad that she needed to move across the country to get away from me?”

“She needed room to breathe. You were stifling her.”

 _Stifling her?_ Charles knows he’d been overprotective, but he thinks that’s a little much. “She’s my little sister. Isn’t it sort of my job to worry about her?”

“Worrying about her is one thing. Trying to control her is another.”

Charles bristles. “I wasn’t trying to control her. I just wanted to keep her from doing something she’d regret later.”

“How did you know she was going to regret it?”

“Well—because obviously—”

“She’s not _you_ , you know.”

Instead of a retort, Charles finds a rueful laugh coming out of his mouth. When Erik asks, “What?” Charles says, “This just sounds like every argument I ever had with Raven, that’s all.” He sighs. “I just don’t understand her, and I don’t know how to.”

Part of him hopes Erik will tell him the secret, will give him the key to Raven’s psyche. What makes her tick? What does she really want? Or how can Charles figure that out for himself?

But Erik says, “You don’t need to understand her. You need to support her.”

Charles bites his lip. “But I want—”

“Listen,” Erik says sharply, “it doesn’t matter what you want. What you want is completely fucking irrelevant. What about what she wants? What about what she needs?”

Charles hasn’t felt like he’s been scolded since he was in high school. It’s so unexpected that he can’t muster up a reply for a long moment, feeling his cheeks heat with embarrassment. And perhaps it’s that moment of shocked silence that makes Erik’s words sink in, makes him actually think. And then he feels even more ashamed of himself.

He rolls over onto his back again, laying his arm across his eyes. “You’re right.”

Erik makes a noise that sounds like a gentle huff of laughter. “That’s something I never expected to hear from you.”

Despite how low he suddenly feels, Charles can’t help but smile. “There’s a first time for everything.” Before he loses the energy to do so, he sits up and slides under the covers, pulling them up to his shoulders. Gazing over to Erik’s bed, he says softly, “You’re a good friend, Erik. I’m glad she has you.”

Erik’s silent for so long that Charles would’ve thought him asleep if he hadn’t been able to feel the quiet whirring of Erik’s waking mind. Finally, Erik says, “You’re not a bad brother.”

“High praise,” Charles murmurs.

“Don’t fish for compliments,” Erik says, but it sounds teasing. Then he turns over, covers rustling. “Goodnight, Charles.”

Charles closes his eyes. “Goodnight, Erik.”

 

*

 

Erik wakes up a few minutes before his alarm in the morning, and instead of closing his eyes again, he finds himself looking over at the other bed to where Charles lies snoring softly. He’s gotten himself twisted up in the covers during the night, and he’s on his side facing Erik, face mashed into the pillow. He looks even younger when he’s asleep, his hair falling over his forehead, his mouth slack and half-open, dark lashes standing out starkly against pale cheeks. Erik has the absurd urge to comb his hand through Charles’s hair. Or run his thumb over the red curve of Charles’s mouth.

He’s not blind—he’s pretty sure Charles is attracted to him. That explains the awkwardness of last night when Charles had blushed bright red and all but fled to the bathroom when he’d seen Erik in a towel. And when he’d tripped into Erik’s bed, literally, and his hand had landed on Erik’s upper thigh, perilously close to Erik’s crotch…

 _Bad idea,_ Erik tells himself. _Very bad idea._

Because it’s not as if he doesn’t find Charles attractive in return. It’s not as if he hasn’t noticed how mischievous and alluring Charles’s eyes are, or how butterflies manifest in Erik’s stomach every time Charles laughs. But getting involved would make things messy. This is his best friend’s brother. Her _estranged_ brother. The last thing Erik wants is to be forced to pick sides.

He’d pick Raven, of course. They’ve been friends for years. But he knows Charles would be hurt in the process, and the thought of hurting Charles is…unpleasant.

Great. He’s already let things get messy.

His phone starts to buzz on the nightstand, and a moment later, the honking of the alarm shatters the peaceful morning quiet of the room. Charles wakes immediately, brows scrunching together in consternation as he blinks blearily.

Erik sits up and swings out of bed. When he drags the metal curtain rings apart with his powers, sunlight comes streaming in through the window. “Good morning.”

Charles groans and shuts his eyes again, reaching for a pillow to cover his head. “Five more minutes.”

Erik kicks off his sweatpants and pulls on his jeans. “I’ll be out the door in seven minutes. If you aren’t with me, I’m leaving you here.”

“You’re a prick,” Charles moans, but he slowly peels himself out of the covers.

Seven minutes later exactly, they’re tossing their bags into the trunk and sliding into the car. Charles rubs his eyes as he drops into the passenger seat and says, “Hey, can we look up a diner nearby? I really want eggs.”

Erik had been thinking about picking up a quick breakfast at a drive-thru or something like that, but a half hour at a diner won’t set them back too much. He searches through nearby locations on his phone and says, “There’s one a mile away.”

Charles beams. “Lovely.”  

There are only a couple of people at the diner this early in the morning, so they’re served quickly. Charles shovels his plate of eggs and bacon into his mouth, only pausing now and then to sneeze. Erik’s starting to think he’s coming down with something when their server comes by and says sympathetically, “Allergies? I get them, too. The ragweed’s especially bad today.”

“Is that what it is?” Charles asks, blowing his nose into a napkin. His eyes are watering a little.

“I’d recommend taking some allergy meds,” their server says. “I looked at the forecast and it looks like it’s going to be bad for a few days.”

“Oh great.” Charles wipes his nose. “Perfect.” 

After breakfast, Erik stops at the small drugstore down the street so Charles can pick up some allergy medicine. While he’s doing that, Erik wanders through the store and, after some deliberation, buys a bag of gummy worms and a pack of Oreos in case Charles gets hungry between now and lunch. Erik wants to drive for as long as they can without stopping, and hopefully having some snacks with them will keep Charles from fainting with hunger.

Charles reappears a few minutes later with a box of Claritin, a box of tissues, and a bottle of water. “Okay, let’s go.”

Once they’re in the car again, he pops a couple of pills and sniffles. “Hopefully this will kick in soon so I can help drive in a bit.”

“I don’t mind driving,” Erik replies. “I don’t want to stop until lunch anyway.”

Charles rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. “Alright.”

Against his better judgment, Erik turns on NPR again, and once again, it launches them into a spirited debate. It doesn’t feel as combative as it had yesterday though, and Erik has to admit Charles makes some good points. He doesn’t say as much out loud, but Charles must sense whenever he’s scored a point because he smiles brightly. A couple of times, Erik’s responses stump him though, and Erik feels a stab of satisfaction at that.

Once they’ve listened to all the national news, Charles scans through the stations until he finds one with pop music and proceeds to sing along to every song. Normally Erik finds pop music grating, but listening to Charles belt out Ariana Grande lyrics is admittedly entertaining. Charles obviously isn’t a trained singer, but he doesn’t have a bad voice either. Erik finds himself tapping along to the beat on the steering wheel, which makes Charles grin when he catches Erik doing it.

It’s a beautiful morning. The gray clouds from yesterday have totally vanished, leaving nothing but bright blue sky. Charles’s joy when Erik presents him with the gummy worms and Oreos is infectious; it seems to fill the whole car and leaves Erik feeling relaxed and lighthearted. Traffic isn’t bad either, and they make good time. By the time they eventually stop for lunch, Erik’s pleased with their progress.

Charles is still sneezing though and wiping his eyes. Instead of going through the drive-thru of the first fast food restaurant they see, Erik pulls into the parking lot so they both can take a bathroom break, and so Charles can get more water to wash down his allergy meds. When Charles emerges a few minutes after Erik, he seems a little unsteady, squinting as if the bright sunlight bothers him.

“You okay?” Erik asks, frowning.

“Fine.”

A second later, Charles very nearly walks straight into the railing in front of the restaurant. Only Erik catching his arm stops him. Charles blinks in surprise. “Thanks.”

Erik studies him closely. “Are you sure you’re okay?”  

“My eyes are just a little blurry from my rubbing them so much,” Charles explains. “I’m sure I’ll be fine in a minute. Though I think I may have to ask you to take the next leg after lunch.”

“Of course. You don’t drive well even when you can see properly. I don’t want to imagine what you drive like when you’re half-blind.”

“I’m a perfectly safe driver,” Charles sniffs indignantly, but the corners of his mouth turn up.

They eat in at a booth by the window, and Charles orders a milkshake before they leave. In the car, he insists on sharing it with Erik, and even though Erik doesn’t care much for chocolate milkshakes, he sips from the cup anyway because it seems to make Charles happy.

Colorado passes in a blur, and by that night, they’ve hit Utah, as Erik had hoped. As glad as he is that they’ve reached their goal for the day, he’s absolutely exhausted by the time they pull into a motel. He’s gotten used to Charles taking over for at least a few hours of the day; driving almost thirteen hours with few pauses in between has left him horribly sore and tired.

He lets Charles deal with procuring them a room for the night, standing by him wearily as he asks about available rooms and pricing. When the receptionist rings them up, he reaches for his pocket, but Charles shakes his head. “No, I’ve got it tonight. You drove all day and I’d feel bad if I didn’t at least contribute something.”

Charles pulls out his wallet and hands over his credit card. A moment later, the receptionist says apologetically, “We don’t take Discover, sir, I’m sorry. Do you have another card?”

“Oh. Do you take Visa?”

“Yes.”

Charles slides his Discover card back into his wallet, then frowns down at it. Tired as he is, Erik doesn’t realize he’s having any trouble until the receptionist prompts him with a touch of impatience. “Sir?”

Charles squints down at his wallet and thumbs out one of his other cards. Erik glances down at it and says lowly, “That’s a gift card.”

“Oh.” Charles colors. “Er—”

Erik takes his wallet from him, pulls out the Visa card, and hands it over to the receptionist. Once the payment’s been accepted, she hands them their key and bids them goodnight.

“What was that?” Erik asks as they head toward the elevator.

“What was what?”

“Did you suddenly forget what your credit cards looked like?”

Charles laughs. “It’s been a long day.”

Maybe Erik would’ve let that go on the first day, but he knows Charles a little better now. He can tell Charles’s laugh is a little strained. As they step into the elevator, he eyes Charles closely. He doesn’t seem unwell, save for his running nose and his red-rimmed eyes, but that’s the allergies. Maybe he’s hungry? They’d had a decent dinner, but Erik has no doubt Charles could eat more.

“I’m fine,” Charles insists as they enter their room. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not worrying about you,” Erik mutters.

“Liar. I can feel you worrying.”

Erik shoves him gently in the shoulder. “Go take a shower.”

Charles smiles and obeys. While he’s in the bathroom, Erik’s phone rings. Tugging it out of his pocket, he sees Raven’s name on screen. “Hey,” he says as he picks up, slumping down into one of the beds.

“Hey, you. Just wanted to check in. Where are you guys?”

“We just got to Utah. We’ve stopped for the night.” Erik yawns. “We should be there tomorrow night.”

“Okay, I’ve got the place all ready for you. You’re still okay with crashing on the couch, right? I’ll make Charles take the floor.” She pauses. “Speaking of Charles, he’s still alive, right? You haven’t murdered him yet?”

Erik huffs. “Why would I murder him?”  

“Uhhh, because you guys are complete opposites? He’s a total integrationist _and_ he’s a pacifist _and_ he’s optimistic and believes humanity is all sunshine and rainbows…”

“All things you could’ve warned me about,” Erik says wryly. _Also you could’ve told me he was gorgeous, and my type._

“Come on, I’ve ranted you a _million_ times about how he’s an integrationist and he just wants to link arms with baselines and sing kumbaya. If you didn’t know that, you just weren’t paying attention.” There’s some rustling on the other side of the line as she presumably moves around. “But really, how’s it going? He’s not being _too_ obnoxious I hope.”

“No.” Erik pauses, wondering how much he should tell her. But what’s the point in hiding it? She’s going to see for herself soon enough anyway. “Honestly I kind of like him.”

He wishes she were here in person so he could see her expression to gauge her reaction. As it is, he just has to sit there and wait, until finally she says with a groan, “Oh god, he’s charmed you, too.”

“I think he’s wrong about almost everything,” Erik says, “but he’s not bad company.”

“Just don’t…ughh.” Raven sounds disgruntled. “Okay, listen, I should’ve told you this earlier but he’s _probably_ going to hit on you? He has a thing for guys like you. Tall and muscular and hot, all that shit. Just…don’t give in, please. You’re my _best friend_ , Erik.”

Erik refrains from pointing out that Charles hasn’t even tried to make a move on him since the beginning of the trip, but he can’t help but say, “That’s not a compelling argument, you know.”

“Oh my _god!”_ Raven exclaims. “You’re tempted, aren’t you? You actually—you want to fuck—oh my god, I can’t even say it. That’s my _brother_ , you jerk! You’re supposed to be on _my_ side!”  

“I’m not picking sides,” Erik says, exasperated, even though he’d been worried about that very thing just this morning. Then a notion occurs to him. “Besides, there shouldn’t _be_ any sides anymore. You invited him to California, remember? You’re supposed to get along again.” 

“What if it doesn’t work out? What if he’s still an asshole about my life choices? You’re still obligated to hate him with me!”

“I don’t think he’ll be a jerk about your life choices,” Erik says, recalling their conversation last night in the dark. “Not anymore at least. I talked with him, and he seems to understand.”

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when he actually apologizes!” Raven snaps. “Ugh! I shouldn’t have told you to let him drive with you. I was being _way_ too nice. And now he’s fucking stealing you from me!”

Erik rolls his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. No one’s stealing me from you. We’re still friends, and if Charles is an asshole to you, I’ll hate him with you. But honestly, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re totally not biased by the fact that you want to _bang him_.” Raven groans. He can imagine the scales on her arms flickering in agitation.

Erik softens his voice. “I know he hurt you, Raven, but I think you might really be surprised by how much he’s changed. He isn’t coming all the way to California just to fight with you.” He pauses, then forces himself to add, “But if it really bothers you, then nothing will happen. I promise.”

There’s a long, tense silence. Then Raven heaves a sigh. “Fine. _Fine_. If something happens, just don’t _ever_ tell me about it. _Ugh_.”

It’s not exactly a blessing, but it’s not a prohibition either. Erik smiles. “I won’t. But I don’t think you’ve got much to worry about.” They’ve only got one more day of traveling to do anyway, and by this time tomorrow, they’ll be with Raven. If nothing’s happened yet, nothing probably will.

“Just keep me out of it,” Raven grumbles.

Erik hears the shower spray shut off and sits up. “Okay, I have to go. See you tomorrow night then.”

“See you.” Raven pauses, then shouts, “Use protection! Ugh _, gross!”_ before unceremoniously hanging up.

A few minutes later, Charles steps out of the bathroom, toweling his hair. “All yours.” He glances curiously at Erik. “Was that Raven on the phone? I heard you talking to someone.”

“Yeah,” Erik says carefully, wondering if he’d overheard anything. “She just wanted to know where we were.”

Charles goes over to his bag to stow his dirty clothes away. He isn’t looking at Erik but neither does he seem to be avoiding Erik’s gaze either. Maybe he hadn’t heard anything.

“Mm,” Charles says. “You told her we’ll be there tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

The white t-shirt Charles is wearing shows off the line of his back beautifully as he bends over his bag. Erik’s eyes linger on him until Charles turns to him, head cocked curiously. “Aren’t you going to shower?”

“Yeah.” Erik feels his cheeks heat. Jumping off his bed, he grabs his clothes and heads to the bathroom.

He showers quickly and efficiently, towels himself off, and combs his hair into order. When he reemerges, Charles is lounging on his bed with the TV on, remote in hand. He’s staring intently at the screen as he flips through the channels.

“What are you looking for?” Erik asks.

“Law & Order, since you like it so much.”

Erik snorts. “They have reruns on TNT I think.” Walking over to the desk, he picks up the TV guide there and tosses it over to Charles. “Check the channel.”

“I’ll just keep scrolling until I find it.”

Erik frowns at him. “Or…you could just read the TV guide.”

He stares at Charles until Charles harrumphs and picks up the laminated sheet. He squints down at it for a long moment, long enough that Erik comes over impatiently to look over his shoulder. “Can’t find—”

He stops. Charles is holding the TV guide upside down.

He can’t see it? But he can read—Erik’s seen him reading menus just fine. Is he joking? But he’s gazing down at the sheet with real concentration.

“What?” Charles says, noticing his silence.

Erik puts his hand on the TV guide and pushes it down so he can look at Charles’s face. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” But he flushes guiltily, and that tells Erik all he needs to know.

“Is something going on with your eyes?” Erik demands, remembering the trouble Charles had had earlier picking out the right credit card. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Charles—”

Charles drops the TV guide and gives an obviously forced laugh. “Really, nothing’s wrong—”

“You’re making it really fucking hard not to worry about you,” Erik snaps. 

That makes Charles go still. He looks up at Erik for a long moment, eyes wide. Then he blushes and looks away again. “Oh god, I feel ridiculous.”

“What is it?” Erik asks warily.

“It’s really nothing serious. It’s just—” Charles covers his face with one hand. “I have terrible eyesight.”

Erik waits for some further revelation, but Charles doesn’t say anything more. “…Okay?”

“I usually wear contacts,” Charles explains, “but my allergies were killing me today so I took them out earlier when we stopped for lunch.”

“Do you have glasses?”

“Yes, but…” Charles groans. “Oh, you’re going to think this is so stupid and vain of me. I don’t like wearing my glasses because I’ve been told they make me look incredibly unattractive, and I didn’t want…I didn’t want you to see that.”

Erik stares at him for a few seconds. Then he laughs. “Really? That’s all?”

Charles’s blush deepens, and he glares down at the TV guide. “Alright, alright, I told you it was stupid. No need to mock me for it.”

“I’m not mocking you,” Erik says. At Charles’s skeptical look, he amends, “Okay, only a little. But seriously? I doubt anything could make you look unattractive.”

Charles blinks. “Really?”

Realizing what he’d said—and how Charles might have taken it—Erik hesitates. But it’s the truth, and he doesn’t particularly want to retract his statement. So he says, “Really.”

Charles stares up at him for another moment. Then he laughs a bit nervously. “You might change your mind when you see my glasses.”

“Let’s see them then,” Erik says. “They can’t be that bad.”

Smiling ruefully, Charles crawls off his bed and goes to his bag. After rummaging around for a minute, he comes back with a pair of glasses in his hands. They’re silver aviators with thin temples tipped in black rubber caps. They look like the quintessential grandfather glasses, and when Charles puts them on, they almost immediately start to slide down his nose. 

“Well?” Charles says, lifting his chin almost defiantly. The glasses are huge on his face and, unexpectedly, incredibly hot.

“Well.” Erik swallows. “You look fine.”

Charles deflates. “You hesitated.”

“I did not.”

“Oh come on, I heard it.” Charles whips his glasses off, his face red. “Raven always said they looked stupid—”

“They don’t look stupid,” Erik says loudly. “They look really fucking sexy.”

Charles freezes. Erik can practically hear all his thoughts grinding to a screeching halt. They stare at each other for an agonizing moment, and Erik’s trying to decide whether or not he should laugh it off when Charles says, “What?”

In the end, Erik doesn’t laugh because he’s never been a coward in his life and he’s not about to start now. Instead, he looks Charles directly in the eye and says, “I said, they look really fucking sexy on you.”    

Charles takes a shaky breath and slowly slides his glasses back on. His blue eyes seem even brighter behind the lenses. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh.” Charles shakes his head quizzically. “Sorry, it’s just…I didn’t think someone like _you_ would find someone like _me_ attractive.”

Now Erik’s confused, too. “Why not?”

“Because we’re total opposites? Because—” Charles waves his hand vaguely. “—we don’t agree at all on politics? Because I never fold my clothes and you always do?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“We just—don’t really seem to be compatible!”

Erik frowns. “Are you…not attracted to me?”

Charles barks a laugh. “Are you kidding me? You’re bloody gorgeous.”

“Okay, then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is…it’s…” Charles exhales sharply. It sounds like a surrender. “I have no fucking idea what the problem is. Can you please just kiss me already?”

Erik’s never been propositioned like that before, but he finds it inexplicably charming all the same. Kneeling on the bed, he cups the back of Charles’s neck with one hand, his other hand on Charles’s thigh, and presses their mouths together.

He’s never found kissing particularly noteworthy—what comes after kissing has always interested him more—but kissing Charles is a shockingly new experience. It’s like having his first kiss all over again, like every kiss he’d received or given before this one had only been practice, a pale imitation of the real thing. Charles’s mind almost instantly runs over into his own, color blooming across Erik’s field of vision, scarlet and yellow and orange. There’s warmth, too, like sunlight falling on his neck, on his thigh—and he realizes he’s feeling what Charles is feeling, warmth spreading everywhere they’re touching.

It’s overwhelming. It’s heady. He moves his hand up Charles’s thigh and feels the same thrill of surprise and pleasure Charles does, so vivid it makes him gasp.

“Sorry,” Charles whispers. His eyes are closed and he’s panting softly against Erik’s mouth.

Erik rubs his thumb against Charles’s nape and feels a burst of warmth against his own skin. “Is that what it’s always like to kiss a telepath?” 

“With me, yes.” He opens his eyes and gives Erik a searching look. “Not everyone likes it.”

Erik laughs breathlessly. “I can’t imagine why not.”

Charles smiles. “It makes them feel vulnerable. They don’t like feeling what I feel, or vice versa.”

“They’re idiots,” Erik says, and is rewarded by Charles’s burst of pleasure, like molten gold bleeding across their connected minds.

It’s never felt like this with Emma. She’s been in his head a dozen times, and it’s always felt like he’s nothing more than a fly she’s peering down at through a microscope. But with Charles, it feels more like…they’re sharing. He doesn’t have to guess if Charles likes Erik’s hand on his leg—all Erik has to do is shift his grip ever-so-slightly, and the delight that lights up their minds is answer enough.

Moving to straddle Charles, Erik leans forward and kisses him again. More color swirls across his vision in bright blooms of pink and yellow, and before long, he’s lost in a wash of sensation, Charles’s hands on his back and shoulders, his own hands in Charles’s hair and on his chest, Charles’s tongue slipping into Erik’s mouth, firm and insistent. Everywhere they touch, warmth blossoms, the same kind of warmth that curls in your gut after a shot of whiskey. Erik’s painfully hard in his sweatpants, and he grinds down on Charles’s thigh, gasping at the shock of pleasure, his and Charles’s both.  

“Wait,” Charles says suddenly, his hands on Erik’s chest. “Wait.”

Erik reluctantly sits back, disappointed when the heat and vibrant colors fade as the connection between their minds wanes. “What?”

“I just…what about Raven?”

“What about her?”

“I mean, she’s bound to have opinions about—” Charles gestures between them. “— _this_. I don’t want…the last thing I want is to ruin your friendship.”

Erik slides off of Charles to sit beside him, one hand on his knee. “Raven understands that we’re both grown adults. What we do doesn’t concern her. Besides, when I talked to her earlier, she didn’t say _no_.”

Charles blinks at him in surprise. “She didn’t?”

“She said she doesn’t want to hear about it if anything happens. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Charles smiles, and Erik’s own shoulders slump with Charles’s relief. “I’m glad she’s alright with it.”

Erik strokes Charles’s knee through his pajama pants, then lets his hand ghost higher up Charles’s thigh. He’s not sure if the eager anticipation he feels is Charles’s or his own, or both. “If that’s your only objection, do you mind if we continue?”

Charles laughs. “Do I _mind?”_ He climbs over into Erik’s lap, pressing him down into the mattress. “Not at all.”

 

*

 

In the morning, they buy a bag of muffins for breakfast and make their way onto I-70. Charles’s eyes still itch, so he leaves out his contacts and slides on his glasses. He still feels faintly self-conscious about them, but Erik grins when he sees Charles wearing them and—well, Erik’s opinion is the only one he really cares about.

“I’m sad this is our last day on the road,” Charles says, kicking off his shoes. Erik has the windows just cracked open so the wind rushes through Charles’s hair, ruffling it pleasantly. “I didn’t think I’d actually miss it.”

“I thought you’d always dreamed of going on a road trip.”

“I did. It’s on my bucket list. But still.” Charles makes a face. “The thought of being stuck in a car for days on end—it wasn’t the most appealing idea in the world. But I have to admit, I’ve had a good time.” He smiles over at Erik. “I think I enjoyed the company most.”

Erik reaches over and lays a hand on Charles’s thigh. “I agree.”

Charles takes Erik’s hand and laces their fingers together, admiring how elegant Erik’s fingers are, and how well their hands fit together. “Admit it though. You didn’t like me at first.”  

“I didn’t. I thought you were annoying.”

Charles laughs. “Okay, I can’t argue with that. But _endearingly_ annoying.”

“Before I met you, I didn’t know that was a thing,” Erik says wryly. He runs his thumb over Charles’s knuckles thoughtfully and adds, “I expected you to be arrogant, pushy, self-righteous—”

Charles winces. “How long is this list?” 

Erik smiles. “And you _are_ all those things, at least partly, but you’re also kind and funny and intelligent, and you have a terrible singing voice—”

“Hey!”

“—but I like it.” His smile softening at the edges, Erik glances over at Charles and squeezes his hand. “I like you.”

Charles’s heart feels about two sizes too big for his chest. It’s not the first time anyone’s told him that, but it feels different with Erik. It takes his breath away a little, unexpectedly.

“I like you, too,” Charles says when he finds his voice. “And speaking of that, what is…this? Was last night a—a one-time deal or…”

“Or…”

So Erik’s going to make him say it. Charles carefully walls off his nervousness so Erik can’t feel it. “I’d like to see where this goes. I like you a lot, and I don’t want this to just be a…a fling.”

Erik exhales softly. “Me too.”

“Good.” Charles smiles. “Great. I want to take you out to dinner then. Someplace nice, when we get to L.A.”

“As long as you’re paying,” Erik teases.

“ _I_ invited _you_ , didn’t I? But you’re responsible for the next date, so keep that in mind.”

The word _date_ sends a pang of pleasure through both of them. After a moment, Erik admits, “I haven’t been on a date in a while.”

“Me neither.” School’s been keeping Charles busy lately, so aside from a few one-night stands, his love life’s been pretty stagnant. His last relationship had fizzled out so quickly he doesn’t think it really deserves any mention.

“I’ll look up some things to do in L.A. then,” Erik says. “I’m sure Raven has suggestions.”

Charles isn’t sure Raven’s going to be so pleased she’ll recommend date ideas, but if he and Erik are going to be a real thing, he supposes she’d better know sooner rather than later. Hopefully she won’t mind as much as he’s afraid she will.

“How are we going to tell her?” Charles asks.

Erik drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “After what I told her last night, I’m sure she already suspects.”

“She suspects that we slept together? Or she suspects that we want to date?”

“That we slept together.” Erik pauses, then sighs. “She’ll have a harder time accepting that we want to date, I think. But still, I don’t think it’ll be that big of a deal. We’re both adults. She can’t control what we do.”

“No, but she can hate us for it,” Charles mutters, “and you know how long Raven holds a grudge.”  

“She’s willing to see you again, isn’t she?” Erik points out. “Even if she doesn’t like this, she won’t be pissed off forever.”

“Yes, we’ll just have to wait two years to talk to her again.”

“It’s not going to be that bad,” Erik insists, squeezing his hand. “Just—apologize to her when you see her, tell her you were wrong, and then…if the timing’s right, you can tell her about us.”

 _“Alone?”_ Charles smiles nervously. “You should be there, too. Just to make sure I don’t fuck it up. I can’t read Raven at all, so it’s hard to know what to say most of the time.”

“What do you mean you can’t read her? She’s not exactly an open book, but she doesn’t really bother hiding how she feels.”

“I’m not great at reading expressions,” Charles explains.

Erik glances curiously at him. “Why would you need to read her expression? I thought you could just glean surface emotions from her mind.”

“Oh, I don’t use my telepathy around her.”

“Not at all?” Erik frowns. “Why?”

“She asked me not to.”

Erik’s frown deepens, and the surface of his mind turns gray and dark with confusion. “She…doesn’t let you use your telepathy around her? But your natural state is receptive. At least very generally receptive.”

“Yes?”

“So you have to wall yourself off whenever you’re with her?”

Charles is a little surprised and a little touched when he realizes Erik’s indignant on his behalf. “Yes, but honestly, it doesn’t bother me too much. I understand that some people are uncomfortable with telepathy, and I try to accommodate them when I can.”

Erik scowls. “You shouldn’t have to. And I can’t believe _Raven_ of all people would tell you to do that. She believes in being mutant and proud, I know it. And she’s never told Emma to shield herself around us.”

“Emma?”

“Our telepath friend,” Erik says impatiently.

“Oh. Well, it’s different when it’s family, I suppose.” Charles shrugs. “I understand. It can feel invasive to have me listening in all the time, even if I’m not purposely trying to overhear something. She grew up with me almost always in her head. I get how she might have gotten tired of it.” Glancing over at Erik, he’s surprised by how tightly Erik’s clenching his jaw. “You’re genuinely upset about this.”

“ _Mutant and proud_ means everyone,” Erik growls. “All mutants. Not just the ones that are comfortable and easy to accept.” He lets go of Charles’s hand to grip the steering wheel in agitation. “Raven’s always agreed with that.”

“I’m used to it,” Charles says, placing a tentative, reassuring hand on Erik’s knee. “Really, it doesn’t bother me. I just wish…” He sighs. “Not being able to read her makes it hard for me to understand what she’s getting at sometimes. I think if I’d just had my telepathy two years ago, things wouldn’t have gotten so out of hand. I just—I wish she hadn’t just stormed out like that.”

“Stormed out?”

Charles blinks. “She didn’t tell you what happened?”

“She didn’t go into much detail.” Erik grimaces. “She was upset. I didn’t press.”

Charles remembers every second of their last argument in painful detail. “We were both angry,” he says, wincing at the memory. “We both said nasty things to each other. I know I fucked up, but I was also honestly trying to understand why she wanted to move to California right that instant, and I never figured it out. I don’t know. Maybe if she’d tried to explain it to me, I would’ve understood, but it just pissed her off that I didn’t get it. And then I said…” He thumps his head back against the headrest with a groan. “I said some really stupid things, and she left. She stormed out of the house. I thought she was just going to cool off and come back, but she bought a ticket to L.A. that night and a couple of days later, she was gone.”

That had been a difficult week. Charles had been so furious with her that he hadn’t even tried to contact her again until a week after she’d left, and by then she’d stopped taking his calls. He wishes now he hadn’t been so fucking stubborn. If he’d texted or called her a few hours after she’d stormed out, would they have had another conversation? Would they both have calmed down and been able to work things out? He’s gone over that day over and over in his head and never come up with a satisfactory answer.

Sighing, he scrubs his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference. It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right—I just have to apologize and tell her I was wrong, and hopefully she’ll forgive me.”

Erik’s frown doesn’t budge. “It seems to me like she should be apologizing, too.”

“Well, you can’t _force_ someone to be comfortable with you,” Charles says ruefully. “I’ve accepted it.”

Erik shakes his head. “You shouldn’t _have_ to accept it. That’s bullshit, and I’m telling her that as soon as we get there.”

Charles laughs, feeling flattered and embarrassed and a little overwhelmed all at once. “Maybe not _as soon as_ we get there. I think I should talk to her first. Clear the air before we get into anything else.”

Erik gives him a skeptical look. “If you couldn’t understand her two years ago without your telepathy, what makes you think you’ll be any better at it now?” 

“Well, now I have you,” Charles points out. He takes Erik’s hand and weaves their fingers together again. “Honestly, these last few days have been…enlightening. You know her better than I ever did, and when you defended her, it made me realize you had a point. It made me realize _she_ had a point, back then. Maybe I _was_ being overprotective.”

Erik’s eyebrow lifts. “Maybe?”

Charles harrumphs. “Okay, I _was_ being overprotective. But I see her point now. I’ll tell her that.”

“And I’ll talk to her about her hang-up with your telepathy.”

“Do you really think you should?” Charles grimaces. “I mean, we have to tell her about us, too. It seems like a lot for her to take in.”

“Well we have to talk about it at some point.”

Charles looks at him, puzzled. “Why are you so insistent about this? You’re Raven’s best friend. Aren’t you supposed to be on her side about everything?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me about whose side I’m on?” Erik mutters. “Yes, I’m her best friend, and no, that doesn’t mean I’m always on her side. She needs tough love when it comes to this, not coddling.”

Charles smiles wryly. “I’m glad you’re not _my_ best friend.”

Erik snorts. “Don’t think you’re immune. I won’t hesitate to call you out on your bullshit either.”

That makes Charles laugh. “Somehow you made that sound romantic.”

Erik smirks. “I have a way with words.”  

Clear skies see them through Arizona and into Nevada. They stop for a late lunch in Las Vegas and then switch places. Charles drives until he starts to get sleepy, and then Erik takes over again while Charles slumps in the passenger seat, dozing on and off, Erik’s mind a comforting, low-level hum beside him.

They make a mutual decision to skip a big dinner, opting instead to grab snacks at a convenience store and push on to L.A. As Erik drives, Charles feeds him gummy worms and pretzels and sings along to the radio, badly. Erik laughs every time Charles mangles a particularly high note and rubs his hand along Charles’s thigh, encouraging him to sing the next song, too, and the next. It’s just so—so _peaceful,_ just the two of them on the road, sharing jokes, trading casual touches. Charles has never felt this sort of contentment in his life. He never wants it to end.

Too soon though, they’re exiting off US-10 and Charles has to pull up his phone to navigate them directly to Raven’s address. As they drive through downtown L.A., Charles sighs and says melancholically, “I really am sad this is over. I’m going to miss this car.”

“You said you were going back to New York in September, right?”

“Well, I fly back to England in September. My flight leaves from L.A.”

“Change it,” Erik says. “Leave from Manhattan. We’ll drive back.” He pauses. “Actually I start class in August. But we can drive back then, and you can fly out after.”

“You really want to road trip with me again?”

Erik shrugs. “Why not? We had fun, didn’t we?”

Charles smiles. “Yes, we did.” He thinks it through for a moment. Why not? It doesn’t matter where he flies out, and if this means he gets to spend more time with Erik…well, it’s an easy decision. “Okay. I’ll change my flight once we get settled.”

Erik smiles back. It’s a soft smile, one that makes warmth stir deep in Charles’s chest. It’s a smile that Charles suspects Erik doesn’t show many people. “Good.”

Ten minutes later, they pull up to an old, historic-looking apartment building. Charles’s phone announces that they’ve arrived, and Erik puts the car in park and slides the keys from the ignition.

For a moment, they just sit there, looking up at Raven’s building. Charles can feel people moving around inside, could probably pick Raven out of the crowd if he concentrated. His gut twists with nerves. This is it. He’s going to see Raven again for the first time in two years. He’s going to—hopefully—make amends. 

“Come on,” Erik says, patting his knee. “Let’s not keep her waiting.”

Nodding, Charles climbs out of the car and goes to fetch his bag from the trunk. He waits for Erik to join him on the sidewalk and then takes a deep breath.

“This won’t be bad at all,” he says. “She wouldn’t have invited me here if she didn’t want to reconnect.”

Erik nods. “Yeah. Keep that in mind.”

Instead, Charles keeps remembering the way Raven had looked that night when she’d stormed out on him. He keeps remembering the way she’d flinched when he’d yelled at her for being so selfish and stupid.  

“If we talk and she ends up hating me even more,” Charles says, “can you drive me to the airport?” He laughs a bit shakily.

“It’s going to be fine.” Erik holds out his hand. “Ready?”

Charles slides his hand into Erik’s, squeezing tightly. “Let’s find out.”

At the building’s front door, Erik punches Raven’s apartment number into the keypad beside the intercom and presses call. A minute later, the intercom crackles. “Hello?”

It’s her voice. Charles’s heart thumps unevenly.

“It’s me,” Erik says, leaning into the speaker. “And Charles.”

“Oh, hey. Hang on, I’ll buzz you guys in.” 

A moment later, the lock slides open with an audible click, and Raven says, “Come on up.”

It’s an old building, but it’s clean and it seems to have plenty of character. Abstract paintings line the walls leading to the elevators, and the light fixtures overhead are quite modern-looking. Once they step into the elevator, Charles eyes the framed photograph of an artfully nude man on the wall and huffs a laugh. “This looks like the kind of place Raven would live in.”

“It fits her,” Erik agrees.

He’s still holding onto Charles’s hand, which steadies Charles and worries him at the same time. Should he let go before they get to Raven’s apartment? Should he clasp Erik’s hand tighter and let the gesture speak for itself? Maybe that would be the easiest way to introduce the idea to Raven. She’ll see and understand right away.

But what if she disapproves? Her opinion of Charles right now is probably low enough already.

Erik squeezes his hands. “Don’t overthink things.” At Charles’s curious look, he adds, “I can feel it. You thinking, I mean.”

“Oh.” Ever since they slept together, their minds have been blending together now and again without Charles entirely noticing it. Erik’s mind is just so comfortable alongside his own, and he’s let down his guard more than usual, knowing Erik won’t reject his mental touch. But he hadn’t meant to broadcast his anxiety and uncertainty. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be. Just…relax.”

“Easier said than done,” Charles mutters.

They come to a stop in front of Raven’s door, and Erik gives Charles a quick sideways glance before knocking firmly.

Charles resists the urge to scan through the apartment for Raven’s presence, not wanting to risk Raven noticing his telepathy at work. They’d grown up with their minds so tangled together that sometimes it had been difficult to tell where one of them ended and another began. Raven knows the feel of his telepathy probably better than anyone else in the world.

He’s a little surprised, then, when the door swings open abruptly. And there she is, his little sister: skin her usual brilliant blue, red hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, wearing light wash jeans and a casual tank top. Her yellow eyes flick from Erik to Charles, then back to Erik. “Hey, stranger,” she says, smiling as she leans forward to embrace him.

Charles pulls his hand out of Erik’s as she does, feeling awkwardly in the way. But then she turns to him and, after a noticeable hesitation, opens her arms to him, too. “Hey, you. Long time no see.”

He accepts her hug with relief, and though it’s a bit awkward, it’s still more than he’d expected to get. When he pulls back, she smiles briefly at him and then turns around. “Come on. I’ll give you the grand tour and then I’ll show you where you can put your things.”

Her apartment is small and a bit cramped, but it’s homey and comfortable. Raven’s filled every nook and cranny with her belongings, new and old. Charles recognizes the clock on the wall from her dorm room back in college, and that impressionistic painting of the Eiffel Tower used to hang in her room at the house before she packed it up and moved it to college with her. Framed movie posters cover the walls, some of them from blockbusters, most of them from indies Charles hasn’t ever heard of. The coffee table is cluttered with sheaves of paper—scripts, Charles realizes when he gets close enough to glance at some of them.

“Sorry for the mess,” Raven says. “I meant to clean everything before you got here.”

Erik glances around. “It’s fine. We knew what we were getting into.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” She grabs a stack of magazines off the couch and deposits them on the desk by the window, which is already laden with a random assortment of mugs, papers, knickknacks, tangled headphones, and a half-finished scarf with knitting needles stuck in it. “Okay, here’s the couch. I figured Erik could take it. Charles, I have sleeping bags you can put on the floor. It’s carpet so it shouldn’t be _too_ uncomfortable.”

Charles’s back already aches at the thought of sleeping on the floor for the next few weeks, but he’s certainly not about to fight Erik for the couch. “That’s fine.”

“We can alternate,” Erik says. “I’ll take the couch one night, you take it the next.”

Charles can’t help but notice that the couch looks _just_ big enough for both of them to squeeze on it, but he’s not sure Raven would appreciate the observation. Had she even seen them holding hands when she’d opened the door, or had she been too busy hugging Erik to look? She hasn’t said anything about _them_ yet, so he’s assuming she hadn’t noticed. Or maybe she’s willfully ignoring it.

Raven shrugs. “Whatever you want. You guys can work it out between yourselves. Are you hungry? I can throw something in the microwave for you. There’s leftover pizza, spaghetti…”

Erik glances at Charles. “Just show us the kitchen and we can heat some stuff up.”

Raven waves a hand. “I’m the host. Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen. Except nothing too fancy—you know the only thing I can work is the microwave.”

“It’s nice to know we still have that in common,” Charles says, smiling hesitantly.

Their eyes meet for a moment. Charles wants to say, _I’m sorry. I fucked up. I was a shitty brother, and I know it_. But the words stick tight in his throat, refusing to go any further.

“I just bought a crock pot,” she says finally, “so the era of microwave dinners may soon be coming to an end.”

“What a glorious era that was,” Erik mutters.

Turning her attention to him, Raven smirks. “Don’t lie—you enjoyed every hot pocket I ever made you.”

“Those were fucking health hazards. I’m surprised I didn’t die.”

“Oh shut up, you loved those things. You just pretended you didn’t.”

Charles tags along with them to the kitchen, trying not to be envious of their easy camaraderie. If everything goes as planned, he’ll be able to joke with Raven like that again soon, easily and without any malice. But it’s hard not to be jealous when Raven is obviously so much more comfortable with Erik than with him.

Charles is forced to linger at the edge of the kitchen because it’s so tiny it can barely fit two people. Erik leans over Raven’s shoulder to peer into the fridge and makes a face so disgusted that Raven gives a laugh that lights up her whole face. When she touches Erik’s elbow, Charles remembers abruptly that they’d been more than friends once.  

He can’t decide where to direct his jealousy then: toward Raven or toward Erik. Feeling extremely out of place and uncomfortable, he mutters an excuse and flees to the bathroom.

 _Don’t be silly,_ he tells himself, staring at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. _Being jealous of either of them is ridiculous. Erik is with you now, and you’re going to figure things out with Raven, and everything’s going to be alright._

His reflection looks about as convinced as he feels. Sighing, he splashes some water on his face and opens the door.

Erik’s right outside, his fist raised to knock. Charles smiles reflexively at him, but something in his expression makes Erik’s brows furrow anyway. “Hey. You okay?”

“Fine.” He glances toward the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”

“Pizza.” Erik touches his arm. “You sure you’re okay? You feel a little strange. Up here.” He taps his temple. 

“Oh. I hadn’t realized…” His telepathy has a tendency to seek out familiar, comforting minds when he’s uncomfortable or uneasy. He hadn’t meant to brush up against Erik’s thoughts without any warning.

“It’s fine,” Erik says softly. “I said I liked having you up there, didn’t I?”

Charles doesn’t think he’s ever going to get used to Erik’s easy acceptance of his telepathy. It still feels like a dream he’s going to wake up from sooner rather than later. But he’ll try to enjoy it as best as he can for now. Smiling, he takes Erik’s hand and squeezes it gently. _Thank you_.

It’s not the first time they’ve spoken mind-to-mind, but he still feels a thrill when Erik replies, _You’ll tell me what’s wrong later?_

Each word is formed with surprising clarity, no doubt a skill learned from his telepath friend. It makes it easy to talk to Erik without having to flip through recent memories and feelings to search for context. Charles squeezes Erik’s hand again and says, _It’s nothing really. Just nerves._

Erik studies him closely for a moment. Then he squeezes Charles’s hand back. _I’ll be right here with you._

Charles wants to say, _But you’re Raven’s best friend. You’re supposed to be_ her _moral support_. This isn’t about picking sides though, or at least it shouldn’t be. The last thing Charles is going to do is make Erik choose between him and Raven. If he ended up ruining Erik and Raven’s friendship, he’d never forgive himself.

He just says, _Thank you_ , and debates for a second whether or not to risk a kiss. But in the next moment, Raven’s poking her head out of the kitchen and shouting, “Pizza’s ready! Where are you guys?”

Charles pulls his hand away from Erik’s and pastes on a smile as he leads the way back to the kitchen. “Mm, that smells good.”

“Yeah, I’m an expert at reheating pizza,” Raven says. She hands him one plate and reaches over his shoulder to hand Erik the other. “Do you want extra cheese on that? Pepper? Garlic sauce? I have some extra here somewhere…” After rummaging around in a drawer, she comes up with a little container of garlic sauce. “Here,” she says, setting it on Charles’s plate. “I know you like that shit.”

She never did like garlic sauce on her pizza. Charles grins and says, “One woman’s shit is another man’s treasure.”

Raven groans. “Oh god, you are _so_ corny! I forgot how fucking corny you are.” But she smiles as she says it, and the knot in Charles’s chest loosens just a bit.

They eat their pizza and Raven offers to put on a movie, but truthfully Charles is just exhausted from the long drive and he can sense that Erik’s nearing his limit as well. So Raven brings sleeping bags for Charles and blankets and pillows for them both. As she makes up the couch, Charles and Erik move the coffee table to the side to make room for a pallet on the floor. The carpet underfoot is worn, but at least it’ll provide more cushion than hardwood.

“I can take the floor tonight,” Erik says.

Charles shakes his head. “You drove for most of today. You’ve earned the couch.”

It’s a testament to how tired Erik is that he doesn’t protest much. They take turns in the bathroom brushing their teeth, and then they get settled in their respective beds. Charles takes off his glasses and sets them aside on the nearby coffee table. Yawning, Raven bids them goodnight and turns out the light.  

For a couple of minutes, Charles stares up at the ceiling fan, each blade a broad shadow rotating lazily in the darkness. Several thoughts keep spinning through his head in much the same manner. He’s in Raven’s apartment. She’s sleeping just a room over. This is the closest they’ve been—physically and otherwise—in two years. This is really happening.

A touch on his arm makes him turn. Erik’s reached down to rest his fingers on Charles’s forearm. _You feel…happy?_

 _Hopeful,_ Charles says. _I think._ He clasps Erik’s hand for a moment before letting go again and closing his eyes. _Goodnight, Erik._

Erik leaves his fingers where they are, just grazing Charles’s skin. _Goodnight, Charles._

*

 

Raven gets up at the crack of dawn. Though she obviously tries to creep around to avoid disturbing them, Erik wakes up anyway because he’s a light sleeper. He can feel Raven moving around in her room—she’s always worn earrings for as long as he’s known her, and they’re almost always metal and easily detectable.

Yawning, Erik turns over onto his side and looks down at Charles, who’s sleeping with his mouth slightly open, the lower half of the sleeping bag tangled up between his legs, a pillow crease on his cheek. The sight of him fills Erik with quiet affection. It’s a feeling he’s starting to get used to.

Raven’s bedroom door swings open with a slight creak. Charles stirs, brows furrowing, but doesn’t wake. Erik resists the urge to smooth out his frown with his thumb. Instead, he pushes his blanket aside and sits up.  

Pausing mid-step, Raven whispers, “You’re awake.”

He slides off the couch, carefully steps over Charles, and joins her as she walks to the kitchen. “You’re up early.”

“I have rehearsal until two.” She fills a kettle and sets it on the stovetop. “Can you guys entertain yourselves until then? You could drive downtown. If you want to get lunch somewhere, I have recommendations. There’s a nice kosher place five blocks away.”

“That sounds good.”

“I’ll text you the address.” Raven fetches a packet of instant coffee from one of the cabinets and shakes it idly. After a moment, she says lowly, “Are you okay with hanging out with Charles?”

“We survived a road trip, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, but that kind of forced you to hang out. Now that you’re here, you don’t _have_ to.”

There’s an inquiring edge to her voice that tells Erik the real question she’s trying to get at. “We get along,” he says evenly.

Raven studies his expression closely for a moment, then frowns. “Was there any…I mean, did you two…”

“You said you didn’t want to hear about it if anything happened.”

“Yes,” Raven says with a hint of exasperation, “but I want to _know_. Like, generally. Yes or no.”

“Yes.”

It clearly isn’t the answer she was expecting. She gapes at him for a long few seconds, closes her mouth, then opens it again. “ _Erik!”_

“What?”

“I don’t know what!” She just barely manages to keep her voice down. “I mean, how am I supposed to react to the fact that my brother and my best friend had sex? Or—you _are_ having sex? Is this still going on?”

“Maybe.” As steam starts to whistle from the kettle, Erik pulls two mugs out of the cabinet beside the sink. “I like him.”

When he realizes she’s too shocked to function at the moment, Erik lifts the kettle away and turns the stove off with a flick of his powers. Taking the packet of instant coffee from her hands, he tears it open, dumps it into her mug, and goes to fetch another from the cabinet.

Raven stares at him as he adds water and stirs. “So…are you…is this casual? Or is it…”

“We’re seeing where it goes.” He holds out one mug to her. Once she takes it, he leans back against the counter and scrutinizes her in turn. She looks…surprised, of course, and maybe a little confused, but not angry. “I know it’s…unexpected,” he says carefully.

Raven snorts. “You can say that again.” As she sips at her coffee, some of the faint redness to her cheeks fades back into the usual dark blue of her skin. Her gaze on him turns more thoughtful than probing. “I mean, I hoped you guys would get along, but I didn’t really think…And then you called me that night and told me you were into him, so this isn’t a _total_ shock, but still. And—” She glances down at her coffee, finger tracing the rim of the mug. After a minute, she mutters, “This isn’t going to change things with us, is it?”

Erik remembers how vehemently she’d reacted on the phone that night, how she’d accused Charles of stealing Erik away. The idea’s ridiculous, but Erik knows Raven would hate him for making light of it.

“No, it isn’t,” he says quietly. “Whatever happens between me and Charles, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re my best friend.”

Raven bites her bottom lip. Erik notices, for the first time, that that’s something she and Charles both do when they’re thinking, or nervous.

“You say that now but…” She heaves a sigh. “Look, I’m not trying to make you… _break up_ with him or whatever. If you’re happy, then I’ll be happy, too. It’s just going to take me some time to get used to it.”

“Of course.”

“Ugh.” She rubs her eyes. “I still have to talk to Charles, too. I can’t even figure out what I want to say to him. I’m still mad at him but I miss him, too, and I want him back. But I feel like _not_ being mad at him means I’m…giving in, or something like that. But I’m not.”

“That’s not how forgiveness works.”

“I know. It’s dumb. And anyway, he came to apologize so if anything, _he’s_ the one giving in.”

“That’s still not how forgiveness works,” Erik says dryly.

“As if you’re an expert!”

That’s true enough—he rarely forgives anyone for even the slightest of offenses. But it’s easier to give advice than follow it, and much easier to analyze Raven’s hang-ups than take a good hard look at his own. He possesses enough self-awareness to admit that much.

“I might not be an expert,” Erik says, “but I know you’re not going to figure out how to resolve this thing if you’re keeping score.”

Raven bites her lip again and studies the surface of her coffee for a moment. Then she sighs and says, “Sometimes you’re smarter than you look.”

“Shut up,” Erik growls, kicking her.

Grinning, she drains the rest of her coffee and sets the mug in the sink. “Okay, I gotta go. I’ll be home in the afternoon and we can go to dinner or something.” Then she glares ferociously at him. “For the love of god, do _not_ have sex on my couch.”

Erik smirks. “I make no promises.”

“Ugh!”

Smacking his arm, she grabs her keys from the kitchen counter and heads out the door. Once she’s gone, Erik makes his way back to the living room and finds Charles still asleep—or so it seems until Erik sits down on the couch and Charles opens his eyes.

“How long have you been awake?” Erik asks.

“A few minutes.”

“And how much of that did you overhear?”

“Most of it,” Charles admits. “The kitchen’s not that far away, and sound carries, you know.”

Erik pats the seat next to him. “Come up here.”

Charles sheds his blankets and sleeping bags and crawls up to join Erik on the couch, curling neatly against Erik’s side. “So she knows about us now.”

“Yeah.”

“And she seemed to take it well. Mostly.” Charles grimaces. “In any case, her reaction could’ve been worse. And I’m glad she knows. I wouldn’t have wanted to sneak around all summer.” 

“Probably not a good idea,” Erik agrees. He wouldn’t have hidden something like that from Raven anyway; she deserves to know.

Charles runs his hand along Erik’s thigh absently. “I want to talk when she gets back, just to clear the air as soon as possible, but if it goes badly, I don’t want it to affect her performance tonight.”

“Tomorrow then.”

“Yes, tomorrow.” Charles sighs. “I feel like I’m going to put my foot in my mouth again.”

“Come on. We’ll get breakfast and brainstorm a little.”

Charles brightens at the mention of breakfast and scrambles off to get dressed. Erik changes out of his sleepwear and combs his hair while Charles brushes his teeth. It’s comfortably domestic, sharing bathroom space with Charles like this. Since they’ll be bunking here for a while, Erik imagines they’ll have a good number of mornings like this in their future. The idea of it pleases him.

After consulting his phone briefly, Charles finds a well-reviewed diner only a few blocks away. The weather outside is warm and sunny, so they walk instead of taking the car. Charles slides his hand tentatively into Erik’s and practically glows when Erik laces their fingers securely together. His happiness puts a bounce into Erik’s step as well as his own.

The diner’s crowded but well-staffed so they don’t have to wait long for food. The portions are generous, much to Charles’s pleasure, and he devours a whole tray of pancakes, eggs, bacon, biscuits and gravy, oatmeal, and a bowl of grits. In between bites, they discuss how Charles should approach things tomorrow.

It’s really not hard, in Erik’s opinion. Charles just has to apologize for being a dick and promise to support Raven going forward. Simple as that.

“Yeah, it _sounds_ simple,” Charles sighs, “but will it _be_ simple?”

“Just say sorry,” Erik says. “That’s all she wants to hear, I promise you.”

“But—”

“You’re overthinking it.”

“I know I am. That doesn’t stop me from doing it.” Charles sips his tea with a frown. “We should get her flowers for tonight. And a card.”

Erik nods. “She’d like that.” He’d brought flowers to the last show he’d seen her in, and she’d been delighted. It had made her feel like a real actress, though she’d only played a minor part.

“And maybe…” Charles hums thoughtfully. “I was thinking that it probably wouldn’t be too considerate to trespass on Raven’s hospitality for the whole summer. I might look into renting a place here for the summer, whatever’s left.” He tilts his head and looks at Erik. “Maybe you’d like to come stay with me?”

“You just don’t want to sleep on the floor anymore,” Erik teases.

Charles laughs. “That wasn’t the _main_ reason I want to look for another place, but yes, I admit it’s _one_ of the reasons. I’ll find a place with a bed.” He pauses, eyebrow lifting inquiringly. “Two beds?”

“One bed would be fine,” Erik says, and is rewarded by Charles’s warm rush of pleasure and anticipation.

“But,” he adds after a moment, “I should probably stay at Raven’s for a while first. At least until she gets used to the idea of us being together.”

“Right.” Charles smiles ruefully. “I don’t want her to think I’m somehow taking you from her.”

“Yeah. Though she’ll probably want me gone sooner rather than later. She likes living alone.”

“Yeah. I’m sure she’ll be relieved when we’re out of her hair.”

Once they settle the bill, they take a long, meandering walk around the immediate city. L.A.’s crowded but not stifling, though Erik can tell the heat’s going to be unbearable soon enough. They stop at a few souvenir shops for Charles to poke around and visit a few of the tourist traps Charles is particularly interested in. Then they stop for lunch at the place Raven recommended before heading back to the apartment.

As Erik locks the door behind them, Charles yawns. “How do you feel about naps?”

“I’m not sleepy but I’m not about to stop you.”

“Well, good,” Charles says, and promptly lays his head in Erik’s lap as soon as he sits down on the couch. Within a minute, he’s snoring softly against Erik’s thigh, his glasses mashed crookedly against his face. Erik slides them gently off him and lays them aside. With a flick of his powers, he turns on the TV, dials the volume down low, and searches through the channels for something interesting.

Raven finds them like that an hour or so later, Charles sleeping soundly, Erik watching Law & Order reruns while carding his fingers through Charles’s hair. He stills when he feels Raven near but doesn’t move. A moment later, the door’s open, and she spots them almost immediately.

For a moment, she stands frozen in the doorway. Then she huffs and whispers, “I hate to admit it, but you two are cute.”

Erik grins. “How was rehearsal?”

“Long. Ugh.” She kicks off her shoes, drops her bag, and comes over to lean over the back of the couch next to him. “I have to head back in a few hours for last-minute stuff and then I won’t see you guys until after the show. I have your tickets though.” She hands him a white envelope.

“Thanks.” He glances down at Charles. “It doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere anytime soon.”

Raven sighs. “He sleeps like the dead. Okay, you stay there. I’ll make popcorn and we can put on a movie. Or do a Law & Order marathon.” She straightens with a grin. “Man, I’ve missed our marathons.”

Erik smiles. It really has been far too long since they’ve hung out. “So have I.”

 

*

 

Charles wishes he’d had time to say good luck to Raven before the show, but she’d left again by the time he’d finally roused from his nap. He sends her a text though and hopes she sees it before she goes on stage.

They get dressed up for the show, Charles in gray slacks and a white dress shirt, Erik in black slacks and a blue button-up that makes Charles go nearly cross-eyed. It fits his form perfectly, showing off his long, lean torso, his narrow waist. He’s _devastatingly_ attractive. It takes an enormous effort not to leap on him and tear his shirt off.

“Like what you see?” Erik asks with a smirk when he catches Charles staring.

Charles groans. “You’re so bloody hot, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” Erik says serenely.

Charles spends a few minutes in front of the bathroom mirror, debating whether or not to put in contacts. Finally, Erik says, “Just wear your damn glasses, they look amazing on you,” and Charles relents.

On the way to the theater, they stop for flowers, a box of chocolates, and a card that both of them sign. Even though they’re early to the venue, they have to fight for parking and just barely make it to their seats by opening curtain. When the lights dim, Charles squeezes Erik’s hand in excitement.

He’d read the synopsis of the play online and thought the premise a bit lackluster, but when he sees it actually performed, it’s startlingly good. He laughs, he cries, he clutches Erik’s hand tightly when the lovers finally kiss, and whenever Raven comes on stage, he’s transfixed. She’s absolutely stunning, flitting from one shape to the next whenever the scene calls for a new character, dazzling as she shows off each personality to perfection. Charles is willing to bet most of the audience don’t even notice that several of the characters are being played by just one person, but he knows it’s Raven even when she’s in a different shape. He’s always been able to pick her out.

When the curtain finally falls, the theater is brimming over with satisfaction and laughter from the final, triumphant scene. Charles is practically drunk on the audience’s euphoria, and when the cast comes out and bows to thunderous applause, he actually sways into Erik a little bit.

“You okay?” Erik asks, putting an arm around him.

“Yeah.” Charles smiles. “Everyone loved it. It’s just a little overwhelming.”

Erik’s arm around him tightens, steadying him. When Raven comes out, they clap and yell more loudly than anyone else around them, and by the time the cast disappears backstage again, Charles’s throat is hoarse from cheering.     

The tickets Raven had given them include backstage passes, so they’re allowed to go back and find her dressing room. When she spots them, her face lights up, and she comes bounding over. “Well?”

“You were amazing,” Erik says.  

“I thought you were magnificent,” Charles says honestly. Then, to his surprise, he finds himself getting choked up. Wiping at his damp eyes, he says, “Sorry, I’m just…I’m really proud of you.”

Raven stares at him for a moment. Then she grabs his arm and says to Erik, “Stay here for a second.”

She hauls Charles off through another door that leads to a deep closet filled with costumes. Shutting the door, she releases him and turns to face him. “We need to talk.”

This is it, Charles realizes with a sudden swell of fear and nervousness. Keeping his emotions carefully tucked away, he straightens and says, “Yes, we do.” Then, before she can say anything else, he says, “I’m sorry. I should have apologized a long time ago. I’m sorry for being so dismissive of your dreams and telling you you’d never make it out here. That was so stupid and cruel of me. I wanted you to stay in college and finish your degree but…that was what _I_ wanted. Not what you wanted. I should’ve seen that.”

Raven opens her mouth, then closes it again slowly. After a moment, she raises her eyes to the ceiling and blows out a sharp, trembling breath. It takes a moment for him to realize she’s trying not to cry.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to hear that from you?” she asks at last.  

“Too long, probably,” he says with chagrin.

“Yeah.” She laughs wetly. “But you finally said it.”

“From now on,” Charles says, “whatever you want to do, I’m behind you a hundred percent, I promise. I’ll be at every one of your premieres. I’ll buy all the tickets so your shows are always sold out. I’ll—”   

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, laughing. “Just be normal, please.”

Charles smiles tentatively back at her. “Okay. I can do that.” He pauses, trying to think of anything he’s missed, anything else he should say. But he just comes up empty. All he can think to say next is, “Am I forgiven then?”

Raven gives him a long, careful look. Then she sighs and says, “Yeah. You’re forgiven.”

He’s not sure which one of them moves first, but a moment later, they’re in each other’s arms, hugging fiercely. Charles closes his eyes and revels in the feeling of having her so close again, of being on the same side again. He hadn’t realized how much he’d truly missed her until this moment, until he had her back.

Eventually Raven pushes him back gently. Wiping at her eyes, she says, “We should probably go back out there before they send someone looking for us.”

“Right.”

When he reaches for the door though, she says, “Wait. Listen…I should apologize, too.”

Surprised, he cocks his head at her. “For what?”

“For shutting you out and expecting you to just deal with it.” She glances down for a second, then looks back up to meet his eyes steadily. “I’m going to be honest, I’m not super comfortable with you being in my head. I’ll have to work on that. But I shouldn’t make you shield around me. I know it’s unnatural for you, and I want you to be comfortable. Just…give me some time to adjust, okay? And don’t…don’t look _too_ deep.”

Charles stares at her, utterly flummoxed. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined her saying this. “Did…did Erik say something?”

She nods. “Earlier. We talked while you were napping. He made me see I was being…unreasonable, I guess.” She huffs. “Anyway, you don’t have to shield around me. But like I said, _just_ surface stuff, okay? Nothing too deep.”

“I’ll barely see anything,” he promises her immediately. “I won’t unless I’m trying, and I won’t try, I promise.” Just being able to feel the ambience of her mind near him again will be a relief. It’ll be just like old times again.  

Raven smiles. “It only took us two years to end that argument.”

Charles smiles back at her, feeling so light he’s surprised he’s not floating. “Let’s try not to do that again.”

“Not ever,” she laughs, and hugs him again.

When they emerge from the closet, Erik studies their faces and grins. “I assume that just went well.”

Charles beams at him. “It did.”

“Charles is no longer on my shit list,” Raven says, grinning. “He’s re-invited to Thanksgiving and Christmas and all the other holidays, too.”

“Thank god,” Erik says. “If I had to deal with the two of you squabbling all summer long—”

“We wouldn’t _squabble,”_ Charles protests.

“—then I’d probably kill at least one of you. Now I won’t have murder on my conscience.”

“Be honest,” Raven says. “You’d murder Charles first, wouldn’t you.”

Erik glances between the two of them. “Hmm…”

She slaps his arm. “That was supposed to be a no-brainer!”

“You’re right,” Erik mutters, “how could I possibly kill you first? You have such a charming personality.”

That draws laughs from all of them. Once they’ve settled down, Charles presents Raven with her flowers and the card, while Erik hands over the box of chocolates. Raven accepts all three with glee and hugs them both tightly.

“Let me get my things,” she says, “and then we can head to the after party.” She starts to turn away, then pauses. “Hey, Charles?”

“Hmm?”

She grins. “I forgot how dorky you look in those glasses.”

A week ago—hell, even three days ago—that would’ve stung. But Charles can’t find it in himself to be offended or self-conscious now. “I look _cute_ , thank you very much!” he calls after her as she goes to fetch her things.

“You do,” Erik murmurs, his hand settling warmly on Charles’s lower back.

Charles grins at him and whispers, “You’re the only one I’m trying to impress anyway.”

He doesn’t miss the possessive pleasure that flashes through Erik’s mind. “Good.”

Once Raven has her things, she leads them out the back door of the theater and tells them to follow her. Erik guides Charles back to their car with his hand on Charles’s back and smiles when Charles steals a quick kiss before getting in.

“You’re happy,” Erik says as he pulls out of their parking spot.

“I’m…” Charles smiles. There really isn’t a better word for it. “Yeah. I’m happy.”

Erik laces their fingers together and squeezes. “Good.”  

Charles has no doubt he and Raven will clash again, and probably soon, but it feels as if they’ve turned a corner. They figured it out once; they can figure it out again when they need to.

He has no idea what they’re going to do with the rest of the summer. He has no plans, Erik has no plans, and as far as he knows, Raven has no plans beyond her shows. But the uncertainty doesn't bother him. He’s going to be with two of his favorite people in the world—it doesn’t really matter what comes next.


End file.
